


Devilish Charms

by GhostHand



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Australia, Background characters from both overwatch and blackwatch pop up, Blackwatch is a bounty hunting organization, Bounty Hunter Genji, Bounty Hunter McCree, Car Chase, Demon Hanzo Shimada, Demon Shenanigans, Genji carries the team on his shoulders, Jesse McCree & Genji Shimada Are Best Friends, Jesse is a flirty shit, Jesse sucks at his job, M/M, Major character death already happened, Noodle Dragons, Past Character Death, Post-Omnic Crisis, Post-Recall except there was never any Overwatch, Reaper76 in the background, Spirit Contracts, Spirit World, Undercover, occasional tumblr meme, slight suit kink, the dog doesnt die, underwear as a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2018-12-05 18:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11584152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostHand/pseuds/GhostHand
Summary: In this world of advanced technology no one quite believes in the supernatural or fairytales. Jesse McCree is part of Blackwatch, a bounty hunting organization that goes after the big names. On one of his more dangerous missions he messes up and pays a deadly price. In a bid to save his life fellow bounty hunter Genji Shimada bonds a demon to him, and while that does grant him life and some demonic powers that also means the brooding and menacing Hanzo is his ever-present shadow. To make matters worse, McCree is the only one who can see his personal demon.





	1. Spark

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is going to be the most gruesome. Everything else will be pretty tame. Inspired by this picture of Dilfosaur's 2demons AU, though it doesn't follow that AU specifically: http://dilfosaur.tumblr.com/post/162218823438

McCree gasped and coughed, not sure whether to start screaming or pass out. He could feel warm liquid trail against his arm and up the back of his neck, soaking into his hair. His vision started getting less defined, like he was buzzed but with less of the happy weight in his gut. He had enough mind to recognize the masked face above him; had he not, he would’ve thought that he had died already. The white and red oni face stared down at him, teeth splayed in menacing points. He smiled up at the figure, hoping it was reassuring but not finding the energy to voice it. The intimidating mask was pushed up to reveal a heavily scarred face underneath, brows furrowed in concern. Brown eyes roamed down to the seeping blood and back up to McCree’s crooked smile.

“Hang on, Jesse. I will not let you die this easy.”

\--

3 DAYS PRIOR

\--

“So whatya sayin’ we do then? Just let ‘im go?”

The black-clothed man sighed, fingers drumming against the tabletop. “No, I’m saying we _keep our distance_. It is better to know your enemy fully than to just rush in, guns blazing.”

“Don’t see nothing wrong with that. Genji, he’s a wanted man and we got the means to take ‘im out and turn his body in, so what’s with the third degree?” McCree tapped his cigar against the ash tray and took a swig of his beer. The warm light of the setting sun cast long shadows across the bar, which had barely opened it’s doors before the bounty hunters claimed a table and a pair of bottles away from prying ears. There was hardly a soul in the place which was to be expected, and most of them flocked around the bar stools to pester the bartender and chatter about their plans for the evening.

The only downside to the situation was the cowboy and the masked ninja stood out like a sore thumb.

Jesse McCree would’ve looked right at home in a spaghetti western if it was set in much more technologically advanced times. He kept his armor and six shooter concealed under a worn red and gold serape. His ever-present ten gallon hat and spurs did not help him blend in in the slightest with any town except maybe his own. Though that might have been pushing it, too.

His partner, Genji Shimada, on the other hand would probably only fit in during Halloween or a festival with his black Japanese-style dress and armor, bright red accents and spikes to match the four horns on his terrifying oni mask. The large katana and wakizashi he kept strapped to his back was also a red flag to anyone with eyes.

However, considering the early time at the bar the other patrons paid surprisingly little attention to the outlandish pair. They were more enraptured by the T.V. above the bar droning on about the car crash that resulted in a severe fire and pile-up earlier that day. The initial car had apparently spun out at a busy intersection and banged into several vehicles before slamming into a truck and suddenly lighting up. There was little news on the passengers but it was confirmed that the occupants of the unfortunate Camaro had all perished.

The bounty hunters in the back corner of the bar were far less concerned with the incident, already knowing it was no accident. Their target was a mob boss well known for his somewhat public displays of coercion. If anyone dared cross him he had a tendency to take them out in a very newsworthy, painful, yet untraceable fashion, such as having a sniper take out the steering controls to the car of a man with unpaid debt fleeing in what he hadn’t known was a fancy vehicle rigged to explode shortly after the spin out. The boss was wanted for many such grisly murders on top of tax evasion, kidnapping, racketeering, and counterfeiting. Since no one had managed to pin him down legally to throw him in jail, however, the infamous criminal ended up on a blacklist of wanted bounties. The hunters of Blackwatch were no strangers to such big game, taking down anything from crime lords to corrupt corporate moguls. There was hardly a small bounty they went after, and among their top agents sat McCree and Genji.

“Jesse. Please. Someone like him would have a backup plan if he even caught wind of this.” Genji leaned forward, beverage completely forgotten. “He has many loyal followers and a contingency plan for everything. It is why he’s managed to evade capture and death for so long. We have to be careful-”

“Awh, you worry too much, Genji.” McCree scrunched his nose, waving off his insistent partner. “Ain’t nobody gonna get the drop on the best sharpshooter and stealthiest sonuvabitch this side the equator. An’ if they do, we can handle ‘em.”

The ninja shook his head and sighed. “You can never be too careful. Underestimating your opponent is what leads to mistakes, and mistakes can have dire consequences.” As if to underline his point Genji placed a hand to his chest.

Pulling a face, Jesse rested his hand on the table near Genji. He had only seen the scar that ran across his body a few times and knew little of the story behind it, but he knew it was a sensitive subject. “Hey now, it won’t be like that,” he reassured, his voice low and gentle. “We got somethin’ he don’t. We’ve got each other’s backs. We got trust. That low life doesn’t have anyone who follows him outta anything but fear. That gives us the advantage.”

Genji huffed a short chuckle. “Wise words from such a foolish cowboy.”

McCree sat back and smiled. “I can spout off of knowledge just like you, demon ninja.”

The two shared a laugh, the easy friendship dancing in the air between them. Genji leaned his chin in his hand as the laughter died off, pulling out his burner phone to go over the mission details. McCree huffed and took another swig of his alcohol. Without looking up at him, Genji clicked his tongue.

“Still better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” his partner muttered. “We’ll do it your way and trail ‘im. But I get first shot.”

Though the mask concealed his features McCree could tell by now when the man was rolling his eyes at him. “Very well, but you better make it count. We can’t afford to screw up.”

“You always say that.”

“Because you never listen to me.”

“Damn straight.”

\--

Jesse tried to force out a sentence but it got caught in his throat and he choked out blood instead. Shit. It was a punctured lung. The useless thing was probably collapsing on him, forcing his intact one into overtime.

As the figure above him muttered and fussed about him, he decided to do a mental inventory. Head still attached, so that was good. His vision was a bit fuzzy and getting dimmer by the second, but he could still tell that Genji was there and could see the light of the warehouse fire he’d accidentally set illuminating the night around them. Vaguely he could feel some of the sharp rocks from the ground beneath his legs, so those were probably still okay. Though he also felt minor stings across his whole body, so maybe not. Might’ve been from the shrapnel that flew out of the exploding warehouse.

There were parts of his body that were a weird sort of numb; they weren’t tingling as if they had been asleep but more heavy and dull, like they were disconnected. Along his left arm and back felt like this, but his chest especially. The armor that he’d normally be able to run a mile in without a sweat was now weighing down his ragged breaths. It felt like needles punctured his stomach and thighs. His throat was struggling around the blood attempting to leave his lungs the only way it could. Though if he really was bleeding internally, then there might be a hole somewhere also draining him dry.

His delirious mind conjured up the image of him with a spout coming out of his chest, walking around and opening it up to let blood pour into a cup and he had to laugh. It came out broken and bubbly, but it made Genji stop whatever it was he was doing.

“Jesse?” He cleared his throat, the uneven wetness of a half formed sob evident in his voice. “Why are you laughing? Stop that. Save your energy, save your air.”

It only made Jesse laugh even more, which turned into a hacking cough. Even with all the shit going on, Genji was chastising him. The guy was about as mature as he was, but he always tried his best to curb Jesse’s dangerous habits and self loathing. One of the reasons the gunslinger had even gotten into bounty hunting, and gotten _good_ at it, was his complete disregard for self preservation. He’d throw himself into tussles all the time, challenging others to fights just to feel the excitement of the moment and distract him. Whenever he lost he’d let himself wallow in it, knowing that he deserved it. Then he’d go out and do the same thing again like he was seeking the punishment. Not that he’d just let people step over him, no, he made sure to make himself as much of a hassle as he could be. God help anyone who thought he wouldn’t put up a struggle. He had decided long ago that if he would be taken out of this world then so be it, but he was going to go out biting like the feral dog he was.

It had surprised him back in the day when he and the calm, cool Genji started getting along. He was used to being assigned partners but he always made sure they didn’t last. No need for attachments and nobody to weigh him down on a mission. He was a one-man killing machine, going through in style. Genji managed to show him up, however. He quickly saw why someone would pair them together; they were two of the best in Blackwatch.

It became more clear later on why their boss had put them specifically together. While McCree respected Genji’s fighting skills, he still was standoffish, wanting to go back to being alone. The two spent hours in silence on missions, not even talking when they got back to base. Eventually Genji was the one to break the uncomfortable wall between them. He opened up by simply walking up to McCree after a mission and removing his mask, revealing the scars and burn marks that marred his face. It came as such a shock that McCree just gaped, jaw working to form the half a dozen thoughts crossing his mind. Genji had smiled and said “so, that’s my ugly secret out of the way. How about you, cowboy?”

It had caught Jesse off guard and he could only laugh. After that the two began talking. They hit it off, both finding out how goofy the other was and becoming fast friends. Neither were too keen on revealing their tragic backstories but that ended up working out just fine. He knew Genji was from an old-fashioned Japanese family, which is where he learned many of his ninja skills from. He knew that the scars had something to do with why he left the family. Genji knew of Jesse’s involvement with a now nonexistent gang, that he spent a good amount of his life on the run. They knew enough to have an idea of each other’s seedy past and that was plenty.

Now, as Genji was dipping his hand in the blood spreading beneath Jesse like twisted wings, he kind of wished he had asked more. It might not mean much but he would’ve at least liked to die knowing what made Genji so serious sometimes, what plagued the dark looks he would occasionally drift off to. Oh well, it wasn’t like he could ask now.

Genji started speaking in Japanese. Jesse would’ve preferred if he’d speak any kind of last sentiments to him in English so he's understand, but then he realized that maybe the dude was praying. Or panicking. He’d never seen Genji panic before. Then again he’d never seen him cry before either, and yet there were shining trails going down his marred cheeks. Or it could’ve been the intensity of the fire, pouring over them in hot waves that was causing his eyes to water.

Hell, Jesse could’ve sworn his own eyes were watering, but between all the different issues going on with his body at the moment it was hard to say. He was really concerned about Genji being near the fire, though. The light was growing, and it was so close he could almost feel it licking at his skin, burrowing deep and searing his flesh. His chest felt like it was melting, the sensation crawling painfully slow across his shoulder and down his right arm. He tried to scream in agony but again his voice was lost to the dark red liquid filling his mouth and spilling out. He was on fire, he must be. He could only hope Genji had left him to die as his vision went white then he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely proof reader storylord4242 for helping me come up with scenarios and fixing scenes.  
> Apologies to anyone coming from Out of the Blue but I absolutely had to do this (don't worry, OotB will continue afterwards). I'm already well ahead in writing this and I ain't in school no more so there should be very few interruptions between updates.


	2. Shadows

Waking up was not a thing Jesse McCree expected to do. Even less so did he expect the itchy thin hospital blanket or steady beeping of the heart monitor. There was a dead weight he had in all of his limbs, which was at least a little expected. But the real surprise lay in the man in white that was sitting on the window sill not far from his bed, one leg lazily dangling down and his back to Jesse. His tattooed, gray-skinned back.

Jesse probably should have had a more expressive reaction than just raising his eyebrows and tilting his head, but that mostly had to do with the morphine drip in his arm than anything. Not to mention his throat was sore, so he probably couldn’t have voiced anything if he tried. Instead he simply tore his eyes away from the strange man who did not seem to notice him in order to look around the room.

The curtain hanging from the ceiling around his bed was drawn, blocking him from knowing whether he was sharing a room or not. A set of monitors were positioned behind the headrest of his bed, making light whirring and beeping sounds. A short nightstand held up a generic get well card and a vase of fresh flowers. There was an uncomfortable looking chair pushed against the wall by the foot of his bed. A tall cabinet beside it was relatively innocuous save for the thumb-scanner lock on it. A stand with the morphine drip was to his right. He followed the tube coming from it into his right arm where he saw yet another surprise.

He must have been really wasted and dreamed the whole botched mission and subsequent warehouse explosion because he definitely didn’t remember getting a full sleeve tattoo.

Starting from his wrist were stylized gray storm clouds with red lightning streaking through them. Amongst the clouds a long, scaled dragon emerged, twisting around his arm and stretching beneath his powder blue hospital gown. It had branching horns and thin whiskers whipping in the wind, jaws open wide over the back of his wrist. He shakily pawed at his collar, pulling it out and down just far enough to see the end of the dragon printed on his chest, tufted tail wrapped around a massive gauze pad. The wound must have been about the size of a golf ball with how much dressing was in place.

Seeing the scar that shouldn’t be there, Jesse felt the tension of anxiety start to build in his stomach. He quickly reached up to untie his gown only to have his left arm raise and suddenly fall with unexpected awkwardness. He looked down at the slick plastic and silicone where his left arm was supposed to be, taking over from his elbow down, and shouted.

Or at least, he tried to. It came out as a wheezing, rasping noise like old gears grinding and sent him coughing, flesh hand coming to his unused neck. At that moment the curtain was drawn back and a nurse came in smiling.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake. We thought you’d sleep forever at this rate.” She trotted over to the monitors, giving them a quick once over before reaching out to turn something on the morphine bag. “There now, that should calm you down a bit. I know suddenly waking up with a prosthetic can be a bit jarring, but it’s alright.”

Jesse was still coughing, glancing up at the crazy nurse through his messy brown bangs. She hummed as she crossed the room- he was in a single room after all- and busied herself at the sink. The water was shut on and off curtly and she came back, handing him a paper cup of water.

“There you go. Drink up. You haven’t used your voice in a couple weeks.”

The cowboy greedily drank down the water, cradling the empty cup when he was done and just letting the water drip down his chin. She watched him like a hawk, the smile never leaving her face.

“Gotta say, I love your ink. It’s so intricate and pretty. Lucky that didn’t get messed up too much, huh?”

Jesse glared at her but ultimately decided to ignore the remark about the weird tattoo. He cleared his throat and this time he could speak, albeit still raspy.

“What- what happened?”

The nurse sat on the corner of his bed and patted his leg. “Well, your friend came in here, dragging you along, shouting about you being in a car accident. We rushed you to the operating room quick as can be. You lost a lot of blood- you were pale as a ghost! But nothing seemed to have punctured anything major, thank goodness. Just had to close up a few nasty bits and get you some transfusions.” She nodded at his left arm. “And of course, try to save your arm. Afraid there wasn’t much to save, though. We let you heal up some, and you still weren’t waking up anytime soon, so we went ahead and outfitted you with the prosthetic.”

Jesse shook his head, refusing to look down at it. He swallowed thickly. “Why? Why did you-”

The nurse held up her hands like he was a frightened animal. “Calm down now, sir. Normally we’d wait until you wake up to do it, but this kind of thing is time sensitive. The prosthetics connect to your nerves, makes it real easy to move them and all that. But if we let the arm go too long, the nerves seal themselves up and we’d have to open up more wounds to attach it. This way you don’t have to deal with the phantom pain and added trauma.” She shrugged. “Plus, it’s more or less standard procedure unless the patient opts out. This one is just a basic temporary one. You can bend it and close your hand, but mostly it’s just a plug. You can still decide you don’t want one and we’ll remove it, let the stump heal on it’s own…”

He was barely registering what she was saying. The gunslinger’s shoulders sagged. It was too much at once. Logically of course he’d prefer the prosthetic. It would be easier to get back into missions if he didn’t have to learn how to cope with one usable arm, not to mention even this placeholder was surprisingly responsive. But the drugs were kicking back in and he was barely dealing with the fact that he even had to think about that kind of thing anyway. The nurse must have sensed this because she stood up and clasped her hands together.

“I’ll just let you rest. You don’t need to give us an answer right away.” Then she scuttled out of the room.

Jesse slumped back against the bed, feeling tired despite having been out for a long while. His eyelids were beginning to droop. Curse that nurse for her rambling and upping his dosage. His head lolled to the side, glancing down at the placeholder arm. It was a mass of complicated workings with a white plastic cover snapped over them and smooth, whitish silicone sheathing the smaller mechanics of the hand itself. He scoffed at it, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t the worst to happen to him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

He glanced over at the window, having forgotten all about the man who had been sitting there. He hadn’t made a peep the entire time. His back was still to him, but now he was glancing over his shoulder at Jesse. The drugs were definitely doing a number on McCree to give him this vision. The man had a handsomely chiseled face, all high cheekbones and sharp angles. His skin appeared to be a dark gray with red-tinted markings above his eyebrows and below his white glowing eyes. His black hair was tied up by a long silk ribbon, save for a chunk of bang framing one side of his face. Graying sideburns extended over his ears and his beard was neat and angled like the rest of his features. A frown rested on his lips.

Jesse lifted his hand and waved a little, feeling very loopy. The man simply raised a perfectly arched eyebrow in response. It sent his little cowboy heart fluttering. The last thing he remembered was wondering how banged up he was to be seeing things like this before he was pulled back into slumber.

\--

When he woke up again he was disappointed to learn he was only out for a couple of hours. In that time he had managed to wrap one of the thin blankets around his shoulders and neck. Genji was in the room, sitting on the chair at the end of the bed with his legs crossed in meditation. He was wearing much less attention-grabbing clothes and most of his face was covered by a head scarf.

“Genji,” Jesse rasped out.

Genji’s eyes flew open. He immediately got up and rushed to his partner’s side. There was a tall tray on wheels nearby which he grabbed a cup from and handed to the cowboy. The ninja stood there making sure he drank the whole thing before taking it back, gingerly setting it onto the tray, and slapping McCree on his leg.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You idiot. I told you to listen to me.” He slapped him again, a little gentler this time.

“So what, you came here to assault me? I’m bedridden you jerk.”

“Yes! No. You wouldn’t be bedridden if you hadn’t-” Genji stopped himself and took a deep breath. “You are a damn fool, Jesse McCree.”

“Aw shucks, you cared.” McCree smiled knowingly. He readjusted the blanket to drape down his arms to subtly conceal the tattoo, still clunky with the fake arm, before waving his hands at Genji. “C’mere you big soft baby.”

Genji leaned down, carefully placing his hands around Jesse’s sides. Jesse gave his back a comforting pat. He felt a bit of tension ease out of the shorter man.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Genji whispered before pulling back. Jesse laughed.

“T’ be honest, I’m not sure how. I don’t remember much, but I do remember knockin’ on death’s door.”

Genji rubbed his neck. “Yes, well. We got lucky. With a lot of things.”

McCree stroked his beard. It was longer than usual, he noted. Nobody seemed to have trimmed it while he was out cold. “So a car accident, huh?”

Genji shrugged. “It was the closest excuse I could think of to matching your wounds.”

McCree nodded. “I’m surprised that creepy nurse didn’t ask why there wasn’t a metal pipe sticking out of my chest, haha. God, she’s a piece of work. Gives me the heeby jeebies.”

Genji only hummed in acknowledgement. “So… how are you feeling?”

“Sore as hell and tired as fuck, but not much worse for wear. Why’re you actin' so dodgy? Is it because of the arm?” McCree asked as he shifted, getting his legs out of the way and gesturing for Genji to sit. He waggled the stiff prosthetic at the ninja. “S’not so bad. Kinda expected something like this t' happen by now. Hell, now I can get a cool replacement. Probably put a skull on it or somethin’.”

Genji didn’t respond, only looking at his feet dangling off the side of the bed. Concerned, Jesse put a hand on his shoulder.

“It, um. It’s not that.” Genji took a wavering breath. Then another. “Do you… Are you, by chance, experiencing anything… different?”

Jesse’s brow furrowed. “Different? Different how?”

“Like…” Genji waved his hand in the air. “Like, I don’t know. Any weird pains or feelings or- or visions?”

McCree frowned. He sort of recalled something sitting in his window, but when he glanced behind Genji to look there was no one there. It must’ve been a dream or something.

“No, not anything out of the ordinary. Genji, what’s this about?”

There was an unreadable look to his eyes. “Ah, never mind then. It’s nothing. I’ve just been worried is all. Your wounds were very serious.”

“Pfft, these scratches? Ain’t nothin’ to ‘em.” McCree playfully shoved at Genji’s shoulder, earning him an exasperated but lighthearted sigh.

“Alright, tough guy. While you’re awake, you should eat.”

McCree groaned as Genji reached over to pull the tray closer to his friend. “But mooooom.”

“Shut up and stuff your face, dumb cowboy.”


	3. Followed

After Genji left Jesse had sporadic naps and was awake at odd hours. Every now and then a nurse or doctor would come in to check his vitals or go over the prosthetic with him. More than once he heard how fortunate he was to come out of the ‘crash’ with so few life-threatening wounds, or how whatever had caused the chunk of his chest to be missing was this close to killing him. Some of the things they said didn’t quite add up to what he remembered but he chalked them off as discrepancies between the story and his memory. The smiling nurse was thrilled to hear he was willing to live with a prosthetic and set him up with a physical therapist right away. He doubted they’d stay in town that long but didn’t feel like telling her that. He would probably find someone back at HQ to help with a new arm, one fit for battle.

Despite the slow weaning off of the painkillers, every now and then Jesse would see that gray skinned man, much to his delight and terror. He’d always be off in some corner of the room, silent and out of the way. None of his visitors would mention him so he was for sure a hallucination. Of course he was, though; no one had eyes that bright, canines that large, or ankles that thin. Everything about the man screamed ‘unnatural.’

When McCree was a bit more clear-headed he noticed the man was wearing Japanese-style clothing. His white kimono was draped over only one shoulder, giving him a nice view of his muscled chest and arm. The outfit was punctuated by accents of blood red, bringing attention to the full sleeve tattoo of a red and black demon with a long, worm-like body. It was like the mirror opposite of the dragon tattoo on Jesse’s arm in that regard.

The man never spoke and was never around when Genji visited. Every now and then Genji would ask if he was seeing anything but Jesse was a little concerned that he was actually suffering from some severe head injury instead of some drug-induced illusions, so he decided not to bring it up. Best not to worry his best friend.

When he was finally allowed to leave McCree was both elated and dreading walking out of the doors. What if when he left he still saw the mystery man? He couldn't blame it on drugs anymore. As Genji escorted him out of the hospital McCree’s smile was pulled taught. He let his partner ramble on, lost in his own anxiety. In a small effort to cope he fiddled with the end of his sleeves, normally rolled up but today worn fully down to hide both of his new additions.

“McCree? McCree!” Genji snapped his fingers in front of his partner’s face, causing him to jump and slap his hand away.

“What? What d’ ya want?” McCree grumbled.

“I asked you what you were going to do about that arm of yours.”

McCree laughed nervously. “Oh, right. Ah, I’m thinkin’ one of those sturdier models, one where I can put some armor on it maybe. Need to be able to move around better’n this cheapo thing, y’know?”

Genji nodded, aware of how the cowboy would sometimes rapid fire his gun with the help of his left hand. “Didn’t you say something about decorating it with a skull as well?”

He laughed. “Heck yeah! If I’m gonna be lugging around a hunk a’ metal for the rest of my life, might as well make it stylish.”

The two continued their mindless chatter all the way to the station and on the bullet train. It would take another day yet to get back to HQ since they weren’t flying back- they had failed their mission after all, so no luxury expenses. As if to spite that rule, during their layover they decided to book a room in a casino for the night. While Genji went down to the arcade to relax (McCree’s voice trailing him with a warning not to crush the kiddies too bad), the cowboy decided to head down to the bar. Normally he might’ve hit the tables and hustle a few folk, but he didn’t want to do anything too risky until he had his replacement arm.

The bar was well lit, though the dark wood walls and tables gave it the same enclosed, warm feeling as a standalone establishment. Several people came and went, some dripping in smiles and laughs, others dragging themselves in to spend the last of their wasted money. There was a small corner of the bar sectioned off for smokers which he gladly gravitated to after grabbing a glass of whiskey.

He plopped himself into a chair relatively farther away from the other smokers and took out one of his cigars. He had some trouble getting the silicone fingers to work with him but he eventually got it to light. As he blew the sweet-smelling smoke past his lips he leaned back in the chair and swirled his drink. He lazily watched as some of the smoke rolled up his arm and disappeared behind him.

“Smoking can kill you, you know,” said a husky, accented voice at his back.

McCree shrugged, not bothering to see who was pestering him about his habit. “S’ not like I can’t die a dozen other ways. Besides, this is the  _ smoking section _ ; everybody else here’s taking in a lung full anyway, so why single me out?”

There was a cold breath on his neck. “Because I’m the one that’s supposed to be keeping you alive, cowboy.”

McCree jumped, a shiver going down his spine before he whipped his head around. He was on high alert, ready to fight until he saw who was standing there. Or more specifically  _ what _ .

There was the gray-skinned man, leaning over with a devilish grin tugging at his mouth. He straightened, coming around the chair to sit at an empty couch beside him. McCree gaped like a fish, which only seemed to add to the amusement of the thing.

“You- you talked. An’ you followed me here!” McCree managed to keep his voice from raising too loud, but only just barely.

“Of course I talk. I’m not mute,” the creature huffed. “I simply had nothing to say before.”

McCree snuffed out his cigar and set down his drink, rubbing his eyes furiously as if to rid himself of the illusion. Alas, it did nothing but make spots dance behind his vision. He groaned. “Genji’s right after all. I’m plum crazy.”

The man took to gazing at his well-manicured nails, picking imaginary dirt out of them. “Perhaps. You are talking to yourself right now after all.”

He squinted his eyes. “What d’ ya mean?”

A gray hand wearing what appeared to be half a glove gestured at the other bar patrons, some of whom had turned to glance curiously at the flabbergasted man.

“They can’t see, hear, or feel me, Mr. McCree. Only you can.”

“Wh-... what in tarnation?” Jesse mumbled. He shook his head, forehead in his palm, and stood up. “I gotta lay off drinkin’ for awhile, ‘specially after bein’ doped up for a couple weeks.”

Swiftly he made his way out of the bar area and through the various ringing machines, heading for the elevators to go back to his room. As soon as he made it off the game floor he dared to look back. A sigh of relief escaped him as he strode into the nearest empty elevator.

“You and I both know it is neither the drugs nor the alcohol that are making you see me.”

McCree jumped, spinning around to see the vision standing there, arms crossed. “Will you quit followin’ me?”

“I’m not. I’m forced to go wherever you do.”

The elevator doors closed and the compartment made barely a rumble as it ascended.

“Well, stop that. Yer givin’ me the willies.”

One of those precise eyebrows raised. “Trust me, if I could leave, I would.”

“Well why don’t you?”

He sighed. “I already told you, I don’t have a choice in the matter. I am as stuck to you as your shadow is.”

McCree blew air past his lips. “Does that mean I can get rid a’ ya if I shine a light on you?” he muttered. The elevator dinged, signalling he was on his floor. The cowboy shuffled into the red carpeted hallway, his tag along following suit. The two went swiftly towards the room, McCree stomping in angry strides. He noticed that there were no following footsteps, but whenever he glanced behind him he saw that the man was indeed still walking with him.

After keying into the room and slamming the door shut in the shorter man’s face, McCree shuffled over and flopped back-first onto one of the beds. He yelped when he saw the man’s head sticking through the door, a disgruntled expression painting his features. He stepped forward as easily as if there were no door at all.

“What the fuck. Seriously?” McCree said in disbelief.

The man walked into the room, looking around before folding himself neatly on the other bed with his legs beneath him and his hands resting on his knees. There was a long, stretching minute of silence before he spoke.

“You know if I did somehow manage to leave you, you would probably die.”

McCree just peered at him upside down, his previous annoyance forgotten. “Whatcha mean?”

The man sneered, a hint of pearly white fangs poking out. “Are you this dense all the time, or just when it comes to thinking?”

“Just tell me what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Fine. Do you remember anything from the night you were injured?”

McCree scratched his beard. “Somewhat. I remember the warehouse and the fire. I remember layin’ on the ground, bleedin’ all over the place.”

The man nodded. “You were bleeding to death. If you didn’t die from that then you were bound to choke on your own blood eventually. The debris from the explosion punctured your lung, tore off your arm, and you sustained several severe and minor injuries elsewhere.”

The cowboy rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin in his right hand.

“So you’re sayin’ you saved me? Why? Who are you?  _ What _ are you even?”

A grimace. “Not quite. I was summoned to you, tethered to your body by a bonding contract in order to heal your wounds and bring you back from the brink of death. It is through my power that you survived, and through my power that you continue to survive.”

McCree hummed thoughtfully. “Does that mean if you stopped givin’ me your power, I’d have a hole in my chest again?”

He shrugged. “I am sustaining you continually while your body attempts to heal. Wounds like that, though, it is hard to say what would happen. It is very likely. I’m not entirely sure, since I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

McCree furrowed his eyebrows and made a counter-clockwise circular motion with his free hand. “You what? Hold up. You still didn’t answer my questions. Who or what are you?”

“My name is Hanzo. I am a demon,” it said matter-of-factly.

There was an awkward pause before McCree burst into a fit of giggles. “A de- a demon? Ha ha! Ain’t no such thing! Hoo boy howdy, I must’ve hit my head or somethin’.”

The lights suddenly flickered and went out, replaced by the eerie glow of Hanzo’s eyes directly above McCree. Or at least they were until he felt himself flying through the air, hitting the ceiling and landing on the floor with an ‘oof!’ A slim, cold hand snaked around his neck, claws lightly dragging along the skin before the hand clenched and hauled him up, rising off the floor until his feet were dangling far above the carpet. He stared at the barely illuminated face, long outward-facing fangs now protruding from the snarling mouth and curved gray horns jutting out from his forehead. He let out a sound like steam escaping from an old-fashioned train, low and intense. For a second McCree thought he even saw white wisps of smoke leaking from between his teeth.

“O-okay, okay. Yer a demon. I believe ya.”

Immediately he was dropped, falling back onto the bed as the lights came on. Hanzo was sitting in his previous position as if nothing had changed.

“Any more foolish questions, human?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, this is the last of the planned back-to-back updates. Afterwards I'm gonna space it out a little more until I completely finish. Currently finishing up writing chapter 11 and still got some more to go if that give you any hint about how this is gonna go.


	4. Manual

While he had been at least a little shocked to learn that he should technically be dead, it wasn’t as much of a surprise as it should’ve been. After all one never expected to just retire and pass away peacefully when living the life of a mercenary. Luckily Hanzo seemed willing to provide a more in-depth explanation for their situation, albeit delivered with stoicness that held just barely contained rage and, strangely enough, embarrassment.

“What are ya talkin’ about, your ‘first time’?” McCree said, leaning forward from his spot on the bed. Genji was still out, probably zoning out in the arcade downstairs knowing him. Hanzo and McCree sat on either bed, Hanzo in his perfect kneeling pose and McCree with his legs splayed out, wiggling his socked toes every now and then.

“This ain’t no kinky demon thing, is it?” he asked cheekily.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “No. Not by a long shot. Demons and other spirits reside in the spiritual realm, which overlaps with the physical realm. It is difficult for the inhabitants of one realm to perceive the other, though it is usually harder for the inhabitants of the physical realm. The spiritual realm does not hold as many limitations as the physical one in many ways. Since most demons do not care for or feel hostile towards humans, many of them stay away entirely from human-related things.” He paused, his hands tightening on his knees.

“So,” McCree began. “This is your first contact with humans?”

He scoffed. “No. I only meant this is my first and hopefully only time of being summoned and bound.”

“Thought you said this wasn’t kinky-”

“Not like that, you idiot!” He sighed. “Sometimes demons are summoned here to the physical world and then bound to something or someone. Usually it would take both parties agreeing to the contract for a binding to occur, so you can see why it’s rare. However, if given enough power the summoner can forcibly bind the demon.”

McCree stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I’m gonna take a wild guess here an’ say you’re the later case.”

“What gave you the first clue?” Hanzo hissed, one eyebrow arching. “Yes, I was forced into this. Since there was no pre-arranged contract, I am bound by the will of the summoner at the time of binding. Their only order was to keep you alive, so that is unfortunately my job.”

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. It was the most display of emotion besides anger that Jesse had seen, and it took him off guard.

“I’ll probably have to put up with this until you die of old age, and who knows how long that’ll take.”

“You just said your job was to keep me from dyin’,” McCree pointed out.

Hanzo looked up at him, fingers dragging down his cheeks. “That doesn’t make you immortal, fool. I can’t save you from everything.”

“Huh. Interestin’.” McCree flopped back on his bed, hands folded over his stomach. Here he was, contemplating his mortality with a demon in some nameless casino hotel. It was kind of funny how he still didn’t consider it the weirdest thing he’d done in his colorful life. Maybe top ten, though. “So when I die, will I become a ghost? Do we even move on to the spiritual world or do we stay here? How does that all work?”

“What makes you think I know or care?”

“Well do ya know?”

A grumble. “Yes, your soul passes on to the spiritual realm. You do not necessarily stay yourself, however. And when a being is born in the physical realm, that is a spirit passing on. The realms are tied very-”

“Is that how you became a demon? Or were you born like that?” McCree interrupted, his questions bubbling out of him uncontrollably. The fact that it irked the stony man only fueled the urge. “What even makes someone a demon? How many types of spirits are there? Is it random what ya turn into? What’ll I turn into? Will _I_ become a demon?”

“Rest assured,” Hanzo huffed as he crossed his arms, “if you died like you were meant to your soul would have become fish food within minutes.”

McCree sat up again, his brow furrowed. Hanzo held a hand up, anticipating the barrage of questions.

“A more powerful spirit would likely absorb you to add to their own power. Now, no more questions about the spiritual realm, please. It is considered bad luck, and I am certainly not one who holds many answers or patience for your incessant rambling.”

They talked long into the night after that. The demon had continued to explain that his powers were now shared with McCree, at least to an extent in order to help ‘keep him alive’ as ordered by the forced contract. He was both excited and a little unnerved at that. He had started asking fervently what cool things he could do, if he’d end up looking like Hanzo, and if that meant he took them from Hanzo or if it was a both-at-the-same-time kind of deal. The demon had irritatedly snapped at him before admitting he didn’t know much more beyond that, only that any manifestations McCree managed of his power would be a watered down version of his own. The demonic energy came from him, after all.

“So it’s kinda like a battery, and you’re the main device but I’m just plugged in?”

“That’s a rather simplistic viewpoint, but if you wish to think of it like that then yes.”

McCree thought about it and grinned. “Does that mean I can hack you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can you hack me?”

Hanzo sneered. “This is a one way street. There is nothing you can give or do to me unless I permit it.”

Jesse shivered at the underlying threat in his tone. He waggled his eyebrows. “Oh? And what would you let me do t’ you, sweetcheeks?”

McCree had become well acquainted with the plaster of the hotel’s ceiling by the time they had stopped talking that night. He never knew those light fixtures could get that hot to the touch.

\--

McCree fell to the floor with a heavy thud, waking him from his snore-filled slumber. The thin hotel blankets were tangled in his feet and his shirt rode up to his chest.

“Ow,” he mumbled, glaring at his partner.

Genji just smirked before slapping his mass of blanket and feet, heading to the closet by the door. “It is time to get up, McCree. The train leaves in half an hour.”

McCree slid the rest of the way to the floor and sat up, working on freeing his legs. “Don’t mean we gotta get up so early. Station’s only ten minutes away, if that.”

“And you take hours to get ready, so you should probably hurry up,” Genji tutted as he arranged his scarf around his neck.

McCree stuck his tongue out but sluggishly obeyed and started to collect his things strewn about the floor. He stripped out of his shirt, having accidentally fallen asleep with yesterday’s clothes on, and changed into one with a less questionable smell. By the time he had managed to do something as complicated as strap on his body armor with limited finger mobility, Genji was already fastening his bag closed. It made Jesse roll his eyes; the guy was probably up since sunrise, meditating and getting ready. It wasn’t that Jesse couldn’t get up that early, too, it was just if he had the option to sleep in he didn’t see why he shouldn’t take it.

As the early bird went into the bathroom for a last minute check for their things (and to steal the mini soaps and shampoos), McCree could almost imagine that he’d dreamt up last night’s strange conversation. However a quick glance out the window assured him that he had indeed talked to an actual demon. A demon who was perched on their short balcony like some overgrown predatory bird, staring McCree down like a mouse in the field.

At least, he was pretty sure. Sometimes it was hard to tell where Hanzo was looking, what with the no pupils and all.

He frowned, a little unnerved by the scrutiny, but continued to change and pack up his few possessions. When Genji finally came back out, hands conspicuously in his coat pockets, McCree glanced back to see the demon had vanished. Maybe Genji was a good luck charm to ward the weirdo off.

As the pair made their way to the station and eventually the train, McCree was grateful for his companion’s presence. After Genji had managed to hit it off with the cowboy their boss had ventured to sending him on missions with other people as well. Having the support and empathy of his new friend had helped him get along nicer with others, but Genji would always be his favorite teammate.

He was equally grateful for the compartment they had managed to snag, too. Maybe he could finally talk to Genji about Hanzo, at least a little. He wasn’t too sure he wanted to full on tell him that the demon silently following him had graduated to actually physically assaulting him (does it count as physical if it was his powers that threw him around McCree wondered). But it would be nice to talk about the situation with someone other than said temperamental and wholly invisible to everyone else demon.

As they settled into their seats, Jesse tipped his hat up and cleared his throat. “Uh, say, Genji. There’s somethin’ I been meanin’ to ask you about.”

Genji looked up from where he was rifling through his bag, candy bar in hand. “What is it, McCree?”

“Well, I-” McCree began, hand on the back of his neck. He stopped and paled as a trail of smoke came from his arm and drifted across the booth. It quickly grew and fell in on itself and Hanzo was suddenly there, sitting beside Genji’s bag. He had a conflicted expression on his face, but angry was definitely one of them.

“Do not talk to him, McCree.” Stern, solid. Not at all friendly.

He realized that he had been silent for a little while when Genji, who had moved aside part of his headscarf in order to eat, tilted his head quizzically. “Er, actually, hang on. I gotta go to the little boy’s room a second.”

Genji stared for a moment but shrugged and dug into his candy. McCree hurriedly left, moving to the next car and finding an empty compartment to hole himself up in. Predictably, Hanzo silently stepped inside with him.

“Tryna give me a heart attack now? Phew,” McCree huffed, taking a seat and leaning his back against the window. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought y’ didn’t like Genji since you’re never around at the same time.”

Hanzo didn’t bother looking at him, his head still turned towards the compartment they came from as if he could see through walls. McCree wasn’t too sure if he could or not now that he thought about it…

“I am around, I simply choose not to manifest most of the time. It takes a bit of energy to stay out.”

“‘Stay out’? That mean you go in somewhere when you’re not around?” McCree asked, eyebrow raised. He didn’t expect an answer, considering how absorbed Hanzo seemed, but got one anyway.

“In you of course.”

Jesse spluttered. “Wh- what!?”

Hanzo, seemingly delayed but finally aware of what he just said, turned wide-eyed to McCree and rose his hands in protest. “Ah- no! I mean, since my demonic energy is tethered to you, that is where I- stop laughing! Idiot! Ugh, this is why I don’t deal with humans.”

McCree slapped his thigh as he roared. That was three times he managed to pull the cold faced man out of his marble exterior, and by far embarrassment was his favorite expression. He noted with particular interest that Hanzo’s blush was a darkening of his gray cheeks and ears. The cute knitting of his brow, the worried pull at his upper lip, and the loss of composure were priceless treasures he would keep tucked in his memory for later blackmail.

Holding his side with one hand and stifling the last of his chuckles with the other, McCree asked “good golly, what has gotten you so distracted?”

Hanzo straightened then, smoothing out the hem of his kimono. “It is... your companion. He is the one that summoned me to you.”

McCree lowered his hands. “How d’you know?” he asked cautiously.

“Trust me, I know.”

The cowboy shook his head. “Uh-uh. Gonna need a better answer than that.”

“I do not have to prove it to you,” Hanzo scoffed. “But I forget, thinking isn’t your strong suit.”

McCree crossed his legs on the bench in front of him, realization slowly creeping in. “If you’re tellin’ me this because Genji was the only one there when I was dyin’, I already figured that much.”

Hanzo looked taken aback, then mildly embarrassed. “If you already knew, then why-”

“Wasn’t important,” McCree said, waving his hand. In truth he only pieced it together while he was talking about it, but Hanzo didn’t need to know that. “I just wanna know what’s goin’ on in your head. All you mentioned about that night was my injuries and that you healed them and absolutely nothin’ about who summoned you here.”

He stood up, causing Hanzo to tense defensively. “I wanna know why you’re suddenly so interested in telling me when you been avoiding Genji this whole time.”

Hanzo looked away, his jaw working. After a moment he spoke. “I... apologize. I only brought it up because you were going to tell him. I figured you ought to know. And… admittedly I am very reluctant for you to speak with him about the matter.”

McCree let the air out of his lungs. He lifted his cowboy hat to scratch the top of his head before replacing it. “As long as you don’t plan on hurtin’ him, it’s fine.”

McCree did not expect Hanzo to full-on flinch, a look of shame and fear on his face. This was… certainly not one of his favorite expressions the demon made.

“I would nev- I would not! I couldn’t… do that,” he awkwardly insisted, his voice rising then falling flat. He crossed his arms, hands tight around his biceps. “Although I am against you speaking with him, I would not resort to that to stop you.”

“Why d’you want me to keep shut in the first place? Wouldn’t it be better to talk to the summoner?” McCree asked, looping his fingers in his belt. Something was going on here, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Hanzo barked a short, colorless laugh. “He could tell you why I’m against it,” he muttered.

“Well, why don’t I ask? After all, maybe he knows a way you can be free of me without me dyin’.” McCree strode forward, through Hanzo and out the door he was blocking. It sent a strange electric zap along his spine out to the fingertips of his right arm. When he turned around to see if Hanzo was going to follow, the demon was no longer there.


	5. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My internet is out so this was uploaded with my phone, so please forgive any mistakes or weird formatting. Typing is going to slow down a bit as well but the internet should be back on Wednesday? Hopefully? I just prefer doing lots of typing on a keyboard man.

McCree twiddled his thumbs as the attendant offered them water. Genji politely waved him away, but the well-dressed man kept peddling different drinks and snacks. Eventually McCree ordered a whiskey just to get him to go away.

“God damn he was as persistent as a bee after honey.”

Genji chuckled. “Indeed. So, now that that is out of the way, what is it you wanted to ask me?”

“Right, that.” McCree fiddled with the brim of his Stetson, pausing a moment to figure out how to start the conversation. Might as well just plunge right into it. “I was wonderin’ what’s with the demon business?”

Genji froze. “Come again?”

Jesse tipped his hat up, staring at the goggles covering Genji's eyes. “You know what I mean. Mighty strange coincidence that the guy who dresses like a demon saves me from dyin’ and the next thing I know a bona-fide demon starts stalkin’ me, dontcha think?”

At that Genji perked up, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “He showed up? Truly?”

There was unabashed excitement in his tone that unnerved McCree. “...Yeah,” he slowly admitted.

“Where is he? Is he here?” The ninja started looking around as if he’d actually be able to see him if he just looked hard enough. McCree crossed his arms.

“No, he’s not. What’re you gettin’ all jumpy for, there, Genji?”

“Ah, apologies,” Genji said, reigning in his movements. “It’s just… it has been a very long time since I have seen him.”

McCree’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve seen him? You’ve seen Hanzo?”

Genji laughed, hand at his chest. “Ah ha, ah, I’m sorry. Yes, right. He probably hasn’t told you. I can imagine why he’d want to keep it a secret.”

“Just spit it out already,” McCree growled, kicking his friend in the shin.

“Sorry, sorry.” He pulled up his legs, crossing them underneath him. “You see, Hanzo is my older brother.”

“Whoa now. Say what?” McCree shook his head in disbelief. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

Genji shook his head. “Nope. Hanzo and I grew up together. He was the first born, heir to the Shimada clan. Man did he hate that.” He shrugged. “But he died and became a demon, so at least he got out of those responsibilities.”

Slack-jawed, McCree uncrossed his arms. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re serious right now or not.”

“Oh, very. Brother was groomed to be the heir from the moment he was born. He took it very seriously, said it was all he ever wanted. He was very convincing.” He barked a short laugh. “I even believed it most of my life, too. Of course, as the failure of a second brother, I had a lot more freedom than him, so I was only concerned with myself. But eventually I came to realize that despite what he insisted, he was suffering underneath it all.”

“Hmph. When did he grow so wise?”

McCree jumped, hand flying to his six-shooter. “Sweet baby Jesus on a donkey’s ass! You gotta stop popping in outta nowhere or else I’m goin’ in an early grave.”

Hanzo shrugged, not giving a single care. His arms and legs were crossed as he lounged on the seat next to Jesse. It was much the opposite of Genji, who started fidgeting and bouncing his knee once more.

“Hello, brother,” he chimed, facing McCree since he was unsure where to look.

Hanzo ‘hmph’ed in response. McCree glared at him.

“He says hi.”

“Ha ha, thank you for lying, but it’s not necessary,” Genji assured. “I know how grumpy my brother can be.”

“We were hardly ever brothers,” Hanzo muttered, baring one of his fangs.

“This is too weird,” McCree stated. “You said you had a dead brother before, but you never mentioned he was a demon.”

“Well duh. You wouldn’t have believed me,” Genji pointed out.

“Fair point.”

The trio was interrupted by a knock on the door to their compartment. The attendant slid it open and handed McCree his drink. Before he could open his mouth to offer them anything else McCree shooed him off with a polite “no thanks” forced through gritted teeth.

He took a large sip of his whiskey, savoring the taste. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hanzo pull a face. “What?”

“Whiskey is unsophisticated and disgusting.”

“Well it ain’t like you’re the one drinkin’ it.”

“Thankfully that is not something we share.” The demon patted his gourd. “Sake is much better.”

“Ha! Excuse me for liking a little more bite to my liquor.” He turned to Genji, hooking a thumb at the invisible demon. “Your brother always got a stick up his butt, or does he just not like me?”

Genji stifled a chuckle. “I can only hear half of this conversation, but from what I can tell he is still the same.”

“And yet you have changed a lot. He is hardly the Genji I remember.” The bittersweet tone made McCree want to reach out and give Hanzo a reassuring pat, but between not knowing if he could physically touch the demon and being pretty sure he’d pull back a second stump if he could, he kept his hands to himself.

“So, uh. Y’all decided to just stick your dead brother on me like some kinda demonic crazy glue?” McCree asked, changing the subject. “Not sure if that’s creepy or touching. Leaning on creepy.”

Genji nodded, looking to the corner where McCree had been presumably staring at Hanzo. “It was the only way I knew how to save you, and he is the only demon I know and trust.”

Hanzo huffed. “Bullshit.”

“He’s probably going to say that’s bullshit, but a lot has happened since he died. I know he has good in him, that he can be redeemed, even if he doesn’t believe it himself.”

McCree looked between them and took another swig of his drink. “I’m sensing some personal stuff here, so I ain’t gonna pry.”

“It’s fine. So, how is it being stuck with my brother?”

“Yes, McCree. How is it for you to be burdened with my presence?” Hanzo turned to him, eyebrow raising.

“Uh, well. It’s been… interesting,” he said, going for a neutral response.

“Oh? What kind of interesting?” Genji pressed, sensing Jesse’s discomfort.

“Jus’... interesting.”

He could sense Genji’s disappointed frown. “Well that’s boring. Tell me, what does he look like? He only became a demon after he died, so I have no idea how his appearance changed.”

“Uh…” McCree looked at Hanzo who had a mildly bemused yet challenging smirk. He felt his face heat up a little. “He looks… gray. And demon-y?”

Genji laughed. “Oh? Very descriptive. Please do better. I haven’t seen him in ten years, Jesse!”

“Um. He has… teeth. Sharp. And white eyes with these little-” He gestured around his brow and cheeks, indicating where the reddish marks were. “Oh, and a wicked tattoo, uh, all along his arm?” He pointed along his own prosthetic arm, ending at his chest where he circled to show the start of the inky demon’s head.

Genji mock-gasped. “Why Mr. McCree. Are you saying you’ve been drooling over my brother’s exposed chest this entire time?”

“Aw hell, now you’re just making fun of me.” McCree leaned over and punched his giggling friend.

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Hanzo groaned, head in his palm. “Tell Genji he can jump off a cliff for me.”

With that the demon vanished in a flourish of black smoke. McCree had to laugh at the obvious brotherly embarrassment.

“Now look what ya did, Genji. You made Broody McStick-in-the-Mud leave.”

“He always was easy to fluster,” Genji chuckled. “Interesting to know he still has his tattoo, though. I thought it would’ve went away after… Well, after.”

McCree stroked his beard. “So is he a demon because his tattoo’s a demon?”

Genji tilted his head. “That is… Hm. I am not sure, but I don’t think it’s the reason.” He set his feet back down on the floor and rested his elbows against his knees. “His tattoo was given to him by the Shimada clan when he turned 15, as was mine. But we were both given dragons, not demons. I didn’t imagine it would change.”

“Oh,” was all McCree could say. He mused for a while before he had an idea, one that knotted up his gut. He tugged at his sleeve, freeing it from his glove before rolling it up. “His, um, his tattoo didn’t happen to look like this, did it?”

Genji leaned forward, reaching out and tracing the gray scales and red lightning. He let out a low breath and muttered something in Japanese. Finally he pulled back. “It was very similar. It was blue and gold, and on his other arm of course, but… it looks almost exactly the same.”

McCree rolled his sleeve back down, staring trepidatiously. “It was just there when I woke up.”

He nodded. “It is a sign of the bond between a human and a spirit to have the spirit’s mark appear on a person’s body. I shouldn’t be surprised that it would take the form of his old mark.”

McCree opened his mouth, a hundred new questions forming in his mind when Genji sat up straight suddenly, realizing what he said. “Ah, don’t worry about it. You should take care of that, though. That is where he resides when he is not manifested.”

McCree brought his prosthetic hand to his arm, covering it gently. They sat in silence for awhile, both lost in their own thoughts. After finishing off his whiskey McCree cleared his throat. “How d’you know so much about all this stuff anyway, Genji?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

McCree rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. No, really. You and Hanzo both seem to know a lot.”

Genji looked out the window. “Call it the more secret side of the family business. Back when I was part of the family, I actually would have had to kill you if I told you.”

“Good thing neither of us are very good at followin’ rules,” McCree said, grinning. It successfully pulled a chuckle from his partner.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some day. For now, let a ninja keep some secrets.”

\--

When they made it to headquarters they were immediately swarmed. Friends and colleagues crowded around McCree, demanding to see his arm and asking a dozen times if he was okay. Did he have any scars? How close was he to dying? Thank goodness Genji was there to stop the bleeding.

It was all a little overwhelming for the cowboy. Genji ended up warding them off long enough for him to slip away, though they both knew that while their peers were responding positively, their bosses would probably see otherwise. They had completely botched the mission and now their target knew assassins were actively after him. As far as they were aware he didn’t know it was Blackwatch on his trail, but they would be reprimanded regardless. It would be much harder to take him down now.

McCree was running through possible defenses as he quickly strode down a hallway when he bumped into someone. “Oh shit, sorry ‘bout- Commander!” He snapped to attention, hands firmly at his sides.

“Trying to avoid reporting in, Agent McCree?” growled his commanding officer. Of all the bosses to run into, he was least sure about what Reyes’ reaction might be.

“Oh no, sir! Just gettin’ away from all the others pestering me about my injury.”

Commander Reyes smiled, nodding his chin at his pupil. “Well, let’s see the damage.”

Obediently McCree rolled up the sleeve covering his mostly plastic arm and held it up for inspection. Reyes gave it a quick glance over, assessing without touching out of respect. That was one of the things that made him McCree’s favorite boss; he was mighty intimidating but he had the respect of his underlings for deeper reasons than that. He took no shit and only gave it when needed. He also shared a connection with his agents rather than bark orders at them from some lofty office.

“Gonna need a new one. That one’s only fit for looks, though it doesn’t even match your whole cowboy thing.”

McCree grinned and nodded, lowering his arm. “I figured as much. I was gonna go down to engineering and see if they can make somethin’ more useful.”

“Good.” Reyes patted him on the shoulder. “I expect you to fill out your report and have it on my desk as soon as you’re done there.”

As he left, McCree leaned against the wall and let out a breath of relief. He saw two slim, metal-tipped feet enter his field of vision and managed to be only mildly surprised.

“You comin’ with me to engineering?”

Hanzo scoffed. “Naturally. Who was that?”

McCree glanced over his shoulder at the empty hallway before proceeding forward. “That was Commander Reyes. Toughest sonuva bitch here, but a good guy to have watchin’ over you.”

“He seemed rather calm about your mission.”

McCree gave a short chortle. “Ha. Fat chance. He was pretty pissed, I could tell. But I think it was less about failing the mission and more about bein’ dumb enough to lose an arm. Woulda been more pissed if it was my gun hand, though.”

Hanzo rubbed his chin thoughtfully as they passed through a double set of doors. “So, he taught you how to shoot?”

“Heck no. I been shootin’ since before I could walk. Mighty fine at it, too, if I say so myself.”

A smile appeared on the demon’s lips. “Oh? You consider yourself a marksman?”

“Sure do.” McCree paused outside of a door with a hand scanner and turned to his handsome shadow while he worked one of his gloves off. “Why? You shoot, too?”

“Not quite.” Hanzo held out his hand and smoke appeared. As he closed it the smoke condensed and solidified into a gray and red bow nearly the length of his body. McCree couldn’t help but whistle at the beautiful weapon.

“If you’re able to hit a target in that ghost-y form of yours, we should go to the range some time.”

“Hmph. Very well,” Hanzo grumbled, though the smile on his face was unmistakable. He let go of the bow and instead of dropping to the ground it disintegrated back into smoke.

McCree turned back to the door and rested his hand on the scanner. There was a quiet beep and the door slid open, revealing a large room full of activity. There were rows of tables, tools, and machine parts everywhere. Sparks were flying and banging and clattering echoed throughout the spacious area. There was even a vehicle suspended above part of the workspace with at least four people fiddling with the underside. As the cowboy strode in and replaced his glove the demon put his hands on his hips, looking around in wonder.

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally go to the mechanic workshop instead of engineering?”

McCree shrugged, smile wide on his face. “It’s kinda all the same here. ‘Sides, just cause there’s a lot of commotion don’t mean nothin’ delicate’s goin’ on.”

He walked confidently through the tables, weaving around until he found the person he was looking for. He slapped his original hand on the desk, making the person elbow-deep in cogs and wires jump.

“Torby! How ya doin’ buddy?”

The short, bearded man swivelled in his chair, glaring daggers at the cowboy. “What’ve I told you about callin’ me that? We ain’t buddies so it ain’t ‘Torby.’”

“Aw shucks, Torb, you ain’t gotta be shy about havin’ friends.” Pushing a couple things aside McCree jumped up on the desk, causing the Swedish man to wave his arms frantically before putting his fists to his head- or rather, fist, since the other hand was just a clunk of metal that looked oddly like a cross between a canon and a crab claw. Meanwhile Hanzo busied himself by looking around the half finished products scattered about the desk. “Got a job for ya, Torb.”

“For the love of- what? What is it? The sooner you spit it out the sooner I can get ye out of my hair!”

McCree presented his left arm, pushing the sleeve up as far as it would go to reveal the elbow and attachment point. “This. Think you can give me somethin’ more durable?”

Torbjörn leaned forward, grabbing the prosthetic and twisting it this way and that. Once his mechanical interest was piqued it was easy to get him involved. “Feh. I could do better’n that with my eyes closed! Pieces o’ junk they’re peddlin’ as limbs these days. Pathetic.”

He motioned at the seam on McCree’s upper arm and after receiving a nod he began detaching it. “Let me see what type o’ socket they fitted ya with first, then I suppose I can scrape together somethin’ for ye.”

McCree grunted as the arm was disconnected, feeling a small shock and immediate loss of weight. “Thanks, pal. Try to keep it my style, though, would ya? I’m thinking somethin’ with a skull on the top.”

At a glare from the dwarf he held up his other hand and began backpedaling. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your stuff, just I got an image t’ keep, ya know?”

“I’m sure you do,” grumbled the engineer. He turned the prosthetic around a few times before gesturing for McCree to lean in so he could reattach it. “Take your stupid crap back. I’ll have somethin’ for ya in a week and a half. Don’t bother me until then.”

“You sure work fast. Thanks, Torby!” McCree hustled away as soon as the limb was linked, eager to get out of there before Torbjörn could whack him with that dangerous hunk of metal he called an arm at him. Hanzo followed after silently, staring at the back of McCree’s head as if if he looked hard enough he could solve some complex puzzle.


	6. Touch Base

The first night McCree spent back in his room was very awkward. Without thinking he strode in and stripped right down to his boxers like he normally did. Clothes left on the floor he shuffled into his tiny bathroom. He jumped when he saw Hanzo behind him in the mirror. The cowboy gave him a withering glare, one hand clutching his heart and the other moving to cover his white and red cactus print boxers a little self-consciously.

“Thought you’d’ve gone back to the tattoo by now. You never seem to wanna stick around very long.”

The demon shrugged noncommittally. “This is a new place for me. I was just… interested.”

McCree wasn’t sure if that was a call back to his earlier awkwardness or if he truly was curious about his new environment. He shook his head before the implications of the former could come to mind and pointed at the door. “If’n ya don’t mind, I’d like to go to the bathroom in peace. Don’t care if ya stay out, just give me some privacy, will ya?”

“Hmnh.” Hanzo bowed slightly and went out, the door closing behind him without him touching it.

McCree gave a small sigh of relief and went about his business, deciding to finally trim his beard while he was at it. After a nice hot shower he had decided to leave his new arm disconnected for the night, not wanting to deal with the hassle of reconnection twice in one day. He grabbed it off the back of the toilet and went back into his room, half expecting Hanzo to have gotten bored and returned by now.

To his surprise the demon was still there, staring at the few photos that had been set on the sparse bedside table. Of all the places Jesse had traveled, he wasn’t much for collecting things. Most of the Old West themed decorations he had were fairly new, coming as gifts from his Blackwatch friends (they didn’t know what else to get the cowboy but luckily he’d been thrilled with them). The same went for the two photos he owned; one of McCree in a group of mercenaries, taken after their induction into Blackwatch, and the other a strip of small pictures of him and Genji with their arms slung around each other, beers raised to the camera.

Hanzo seemed particularly interested in that one. His expression was a mix of forlorn and jealous. One hand raised partially, only to fall limply to his side.

McCree placed his mechanical arm down on his messy table next to his hat and cleared his throat. This time he got to see Hanzo jump which was rather satisfactory. “That one was after our fourth mission together. Got real hammered and decided to storm the local arcade. Genji was the one who insisted we go to the photo booth and commemorate it.”

Hanzo gave a small, sad smile. “My brother always did love playing video games. He would spend most of his free time at the arcade in Hanamura.”

McCree strode over to the bed and sat down, looking over at the pictures. “He’s still like a kid in a grown man’s body, if that helps you any.”

Hanzo shook his head and perched next to McCree. The bed didn’t sink down at all. “...Are you two close?”

“We’re best friends. Practically bro- ah, sorry.” He clamped his mouth shut, silently berating himself for the slip up. He could almost feel the pang of hurt that made Hanzo flinch.

“No, it is alright. He deserves a brother who treats him with the love and respect he deserves.” Hanzo scoffed, bringing his hand to his head, tangling it in his bangs. “God knows I never gave him that.”

“Hey now,” McCree started, reaching his hand out to place it on Hanzo’s back. It sunk through like a rock through a cloud. He pulled back, curling his fingers and sighing, letting them rest on his lap instead. “I don’t know what happened between you and Genji, but he seemed pretty damn excited to have you back. I think whatever bad blood you two had he’s forgiven you for by now.”

Hanzo shifted his hand to his jaw in order to glare at him.

“Hell, you heard ‘im. He said he trusted you.”

“You know nothing. What I have done… I am beyond redemption.”

McCree leaned back on his pillows. “Genji sure don’t seem to see it that way.”

Hanzo bared his teeth in a snarl. “He has no reason to forgive me, nor do I expect him to.”

McCree rolled his eyes. “You damn Shimadas and your high-and-mighty pride. Maybe you can talk to him about it tomorrow. See if I’m right.”

He looked away, head still firmly in his hands. “I don’t plan on it.”

The cowboy frowned. Stubborn mule. He picked up a boot from nearby and threw it at the wall by the door, hitting the light switch and probably scuffing the wall with the spur. Then he lifted the blanket and shoved his legs under, going right through where Hanzo was sitting. The demon must have felt it because he quickly looked down in surprise.

“If you wanna mope, fine. But can ya please do it with your eyes closed or somethin’, Nightlight?” McCree asked a little roughly. His anger dissipated, though, as Hanzo’s embarrassed flush showed up under the illumination of his eyes.

“R-right. Apologies.”

He smoked out of existence, leaving McCree to let a pleased smile soften his face before settling in for the night.

\--

After the first night Hanzo would keep his appearances to the daylight hours. He followed the cowboy around like a solemn yet curious puppy. Or maybe a gnat was a better comparison. As it turned out he wasn’t restricted to walking and would occasionally float up to perch on balconies, shelves, and sometimes just thin air. Whenever someone he hadn’t seen before entered a room the demon would float to them and hover behind them, studying the person and their demeanor from up close. He also seemed to have a bad habit of reading over people’s shoulders, which would make McCree chuckle whenever he caught the stone-faced man doing it.

Perhaps most annoying, though, was that most of the time McCree would forget that he was the only one who could interact with the demon. It led to a number of embarrassing situations where he’d have to pretend he was talking to himself or play off his reactions awkwardly mid-conversation. Hanzo, though he managed to keep it mostly contained, quite obviously enjoyed tripping him up like this. If he was feeling particularly bored or vengeful Hanzo would make a game of how long he could mess with McCree while he was talking to someone before the cowboy cracked and had to excuse himself. He would usually get yelled at afterwards in private but he could never take it seriously since Jesse would have a smile on his face the entire time.

After being back at the base for nearly a week McCree found himself on his way to a meeting to get his ass chewed out for the mission. Along the way the demon popped up beside him, perfectly in step. He gave him a side eye but didn’t jump, thankfully getting used to the sudden intrusions.

“So, Genji’s probably gonna be at the meeting.”

No response, just a slightly deeper frown. He had taken to disappearing when Genji was around again, which was concerning. Though this time he half hoped he would keep it up, if only for the sake of getting through a serious meeting without the distractions Hanzo seemed to thrive on providing.

“You gonna consider finally talkin’ to him or are ya gonna be gloomy and brooding about it like usual?”

Silence. Hanzo didn’t even look at him.

“Got it.” He went back staring straight ahead, marching maybe a little harder than necessary.

The door slid open to the meeting room to reveal a long table with several of his bosses including Reyes gathered on one side and Genji standing on the other. The ninja waved at McCree, seemingly unconcerned by the grim faces of their superiors like a menacing wall in front of them. He was wearing casual clothes, only a scarf hiding his mouth and nose. The cowboy gave him a tip of the hat as he stood beside his companion. To his surprise so did Hanzo.

“Gentlemen. I expect you know why you’re here,” began one of the captains, her fingers laced together.

“Guessin’ it’s on account of everyone loves seein’ our pretty faces,” McCree said with a wink.

He could practically feel the room groan. The captain shook her head. “We wouldn’t have to see you troublemakers so often if you would stick to your orders.”

The two in question looked at each other and shrugged.

“With all due respect, ma’am, if we strictly followed orders we would not be as valuable to you as we are,” Genji spoke up.

Commander Reyes grinned, but the captain wasn’t having any of it. She fixed her one steely eye on them. “If you followed orders, however, then maybe you two wouldn’t be close to death every mission we send you on! You take unnecessary risks and go about things how  _ you _ seem fit instead of the way we-”

“Now hold on a minute,” McCree cut in. “We don’t come close to death  _ every _ mission! There was that time in Numbani-”

“No, no, the guy caught us while we were shopping, remember? He chased us out and tried pushing us off a balcony.”

McCree snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, that’s right.”

Genji put his hands on his hips. “What about London? They tried mugging us but otherwise we were safe.”

“Hmm, yeah, but one of them had a grenade.”

“It was a dud,” Genji pointed out.

“True!”

“Agents!” Reyes’ voice boomed over the room, silencing the two. The captain looked like she was about to blow a blood vessel, but she took a deep breath as the commander took over.

“The fact of the matter is, Agent McCree very nearly did die. It’s because of your oversights that he lost his damn arm!” McCree flinched. The bubble of light atmosphere he’d created around him and his partner steadily sank at the commander’s tone. When Reyes wasn’t happy with them, he knew they were in for real trouble.

Commander Reyes stepped around the table and stood in front of them, his arms crossed and eyes severe. Genji and McCree immediately shrank in on themselves like small children being scolded by their parent. Curiously Hanzo slowly moved to just behind the commander, nearly shoulder to shoulder. He kept his gaze on Reyes as he spoke.

Reyes sighed. “Look, what Captain Amari is trying to say is you two are fine agents. Some of the best we got. But if there’s one thing that’s consistent it’s that you get into trouble when you’re around each other. It’s like whatever few rules there are don’t matter. But they’re in place for a reason.”

McCree looked down in shame. He felt very much like a kicked puppy, but the commander was right. While he and Genji got along famously, they were also well known for being a… volatile combination. Either his bull-headedness would drag them into some avoidable situation or Genji’s mischievous streak would put them in hot water.

He looked up when Reyes continued, but his attention was immediately drawn instead to Hanzo. The demon had floated up so he was even height to the commander and perfectly mimicked his pose, one hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose. The commander gestured wide, saying something about risks and security, and Hanzo did the same, mouthing along to it.

McCree couldn’t help but bite his lip, attempting not to let out a peep. The demon made it tough, though, when he started throwing in exaggerated hand flicks and popping out his hip. McCree let out a low breath through his nose, deciding to pointedly look only at the commander’s face.

It didn’t help. Hanzo floated over and hovered his hands in front of Reyes’ face, moving his fingers as if he was the one making him talk. Then he switched tactics and brought his hands together like goggles over the commander’s eyes, then brought them to the sides of his head and flapped his hands back and forth like elephant ears.

It was too much. His eyes were close to watering from trying to hold it in. A snort escaped and made room for the chuckle that followed, high and strained. 

Everyone’s attention snapped to him. The commander crossed his arms and leaned forward.

“Something funny, McCree?”

McCree fervently shook his head. “No sir.”

One of the captains barked a humorless, nasally laugh. “That rodeo clown wouldn’t take his own funeral seriously.”

Hanzo flew over to the snarky officer. He hung upside down and pinched the man’s nose. He must’ve chosen to be solid for it because the guy shook his head and rubbed at his nose, unable to shake the strange sensation.

“Uh, you know what? Y’all are right. I fucked up and I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” His lungs were burning from suppressing the urge to laugh.

Genji cocked his head, one scarred eyebrow raised in silent question. McCree made a move as if to rub his forehead, subtly sticking his fingers up like a pair of horns. The realization dawned on the ninja and his eyes crinkled in a large smile.

Genji bowed sharply at the waist towards their superiors. “Yes, we must extend our deepest apologies for our misconduct. May we go now?”

Suspicious, the commander leaned back against the table, assessing the pair. The others behind him were chattering, a mix of ‘how dares’ and ‘never thought I’d see the days’ and ‘no seriously, I think something is wrong with my nose.’ After a moment of this Reyes spoke.

“You two will be split up until further notice.”

Genji and McCree both stepped forward, talking over each other.

“Sir, what are you-”

“But Gabe-”

He held up a hand. “No buts. The failure of the last mission was serious, and there needs to be consequences. You two won’t be put on any missions together for a while. Hopefully then you’ll learn the importance of holding back.”

His eyes softened and he looked genuinely empathetic. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Then he straightened and cleared his throat. “You’re dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect some art to come out soon! Not sure what chapter I'll be doing it for yet, but most likely it'll be chapter 8 since it is quite long. I have other art I've already done but that contains spoilers for chapter 13 so I haven't posted it anywhere yet.


	7. Strung Up

McCree shoved the coffee pot into it’s holder roughly. He flipped with switch on the side with enough force that the machine slid halfway down the counter. Gently Hanzo pushed it back from where he was sitting on the countertop.

“Thank you,” McCree growled out.

Hanzo studied him as the cowboy reached into the cupboard and pulled out an orange and brown mug with his name crudely scrawled on it with marker. He slammed the cup down and stood there, glaring at the coffee maker and rapping his fingers against the counter.

“You are still upset.”

McCree turned his piercing gaze on the demon. It had only been a day since the order, but he was still fuming. No one but the demon dared come within ten feet of a stewing Jesse McCree. “Ya think?”

“You had to have seen that coming, though. Actions have results, and this was the obvious result to yours if what they said is anything to go by.” Hanzo swayed his legs slightly. “Perhaps simply talking about things doesn't make them hurt any less.”

“Now look here, I-” McCree paused, realizing what Hanzo meant. “Oh.”

A smug yet bitter grin tugged at the corner of Hanzo’s lips.

McCree pulled his hat down, hiding his eyes. “Yeah, fine. I guess it ain't all that easy.”

The coffee gurgled and hissed as the dark liquid slowly dripped into the pot. McCree tapped the top, wishing it would fill faster.

“So, whattaya say to takin’ me up on yesterday’s offer? Wanna shoot our frustrations away?”

Hanzo blinked then grinned. “Only if you promise not to get angry when I outmatch you.”

“Ooh, I’m sensing a challenge. Wanna make it a bet?” McCree asked, leaning one hand on the counter and the other on his hip.

Hanzo snorted. “Sure. Though it isn't much of a bet if you’re guaranteed to lose.”

“Alright, sunshine. You win, I’ll stop bugging you about Genji. I win, you talk to him. Deal?”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, lip pulling back over his fangs. “That seems to be in very bad taste.”

McCree stood up and moved closer, the hand on the counter sliding along to a stop right beside Hanzo’s thigh. The demon was taller than him while sitting there so he leaned in, tipping his hat up to look him in the eyes.  “Unless you want somethin’  _ else _ , darlin’.”

Hanzo frowned and pushed him back by the face. “Not a chance, you fool cowboy.”

McCree shrugged, smirking underneath the cool palm. “Your loss.”

“I think not,” Hanzo grumbled before floating up and into a corner of the ceiling. “May all your coffee burn you.”

Jesse laughed, feeling lighter than before. “Aw, come on now. I’m not good- not bad, either- but I sure as hell ain’t ugly. Besides, you’re a pretty easy on the eyes yourself.”

The corner seemed to darken unnaturally, as did Hanzo’s face and ears. He growled, low and animalistic. It only made McCree laugh more.

The coffee pot eventually stopped rumbling and McCree poured the bitter drink into his mug. He placed a cap on it and headed out, waving to Hanzo on the way. “You comin’ Nightlight or what?”

Reluctantly the shadow dropped down behind him, slowly following McCree through the winding metal hallways to the shooting range. The area was mostly open on one end with a ladder leading to a catwalk on the far end and several hatches in the walls. In a recess in the middle of the back wall was a set of human-shaped targets illuminated by hidden floodlights. Two pillars separated a wall of bulletproof glass between them and the training area, as well as a low metal partition with a door cutting into the first section of glass.

McCree gestured at the partition. “Wanna start of with the basic range? Don’t wanna throw you off in immersive mode or nothin’.”

Hanzo scoffed and glared at the targets. “Very well, if it makes you feel like I’m less likely to shoot you between the eyes.”

His tone conveyed that he was very likely to do that regardless. It made McCree hesitate for a half second before inputting the preferred mode into a panel next to the door. The middle sheet of glass rose into the ceiling and the red and white targets smoothly glided forward until they were flush with the rest of the back wall.

Hanzo and McCree lined up next to each other in front of the partition. McCree double checked that Peacekeeper was fully loaded before taking aim. Likewise, Hanzo conjured up his bow in the same showy puff of smoke he had done earlier, only this time a quiver of arrows took form on his back as well. In a sudden flash of very delayed hindsight McCree realized he recognized the half glove Hanzo had been wearing was one meant for archers.

A buzzer sounded for the two to begin, and like a fish to water McCree’s hand glided into position, pulled the trigger, corrected back into position after recoil, repeated. He spent his six shots with practiced ease, the feel of the heavy metal and smell of gunpowder coming almost as naturally as breathing to the gunslinger. With all the confidence of years of training and repetition he pulled out a new handful of ammo and flicked his gun open, pressing the fresh bullets into the chamber. He allowed himself the moment to glance over to the demon at his left.

He felt his breath leave him for a moment. The half-on kimono allowed Hanzo’s bow arm to be free of obstruction as it held the weapon firmly before him, showing off the tattoo gracing over taut muscles. Without glancing away from his target the archer withdrew another arrow and had it knocked and aimed within a fraction of a second. The bowstring was drawn past the strong, exposed chest and the corner of his serious mouth, feather-like end of the arrow gracing his cheek. He moved so gracefully it was as if there was nothing but loose string launching the projectile, but the flexing of his muscles, the arching of the bow and initial resistance of the string revealed there was more power behind the shot than first glance. His stance was solid as he released, firing the arrow like a bullet from a gun. McCree didn’t know much about archery, but he would’ve bet Hanzo had perfect form.

Archery aside he’d probably bet the same about Hanzo himself.

Regaining his focus McCree adamantly turned his full attention to the target. Another six holes popped up in the red striped head. Empty shells clinked to the floor in a satisfying tune. He managed another couple rounds before a second buzzer went off. The two held their weapons still, halfway into their next movement. The targets gave off a clunk then glided closer, allowing the shooters to see their marks.

The first target had a mess of arrows buried into it. It was a little difficult to tell where most of them hit with how prickly the head outline had become. One thing was for sure, though, had the target started with a face it wouldn’t have come out of their little competition with one.

McCree whistled, thumbs hooked in his belt. “You sure as heck weren’t lyin’, Nightlight. Betcha it’d be damn scary to run into you in a dark alley.”

“Do not call me that.” Hanzo waved his hand and the arrows melted into smoke and drifted away. “You did... better than I expected as well,” he said in an almost impressed tone, nodding to McCree’s target.

Jesse didn’t have to look; he just tipped his hat down and let out a short laugh. All but two of his rounds went into the head, the strays puncturing the neck of the poor sap. “I must be gettin’ old if I’m missing shots like that. M’ not normally so sloppy, heh.”

Hanzo squinted briefly, considering whether or not McCree was joking, before his lips tugged in the hint of a smile and he glided closer. He stopped mere inches from the cowboy, their chests practically touching. Looking up at him with his unearthly white eyes Hanzo purred “was there something you were  _ distracted _ by, gunslinger?”

McCree gulped. The damn demon was giving him a taste of his own medicine. He felt his stomach flutter and his throat tighten and all the words fall out of his head. When he tried to speak all that came out was a shaky, drawn-out ‘uhh’ instead of anything intelligent.

The hint of a smile grew into a toothy grin and the next thing Jesse knew his hat was pushed down over his face. When he pushed it out of his vision he saw Hanzo had gone back to look at the targets, one arm holding the other as he tapped his chin.

“I… suppose I can talk to Genji,” he said strained. He closed his eyes and sighed. “But if we’re doing this, we are doing it my way.”

McCree scratched his head then fixed his Stetson. “But you won.”

Hanzo shook his head. “It is a tie. You fired more rounds than I could keep up with.”

McCree was about to argue that it wasn’t fair in the first place since he had a gun, but thought better of it. He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The two left the range in silence, one off-handedly wondering if he’d get in trouble for talking to his fellow grounded agent, the other deep in his own thoughts, memories swirling around in a wicked storm that threatened to strike him down. It had been a decade since he last talked to his brother. He wondered if Genji had heard his last words to him or if he’d been too far gone to remember. As small as it was, Hanzo hoped he had heard. It’d be better than him having left with Genji believing Hanzo’s last act in the world was complete betrayal.

As they reached the barracks area of the base there was a pinging noise from McCree’s pants. He jumped and started patting around, feeling around in each pocket with both hands. Finally he dug out a small earpiece and clipped it on, pressing the flashing button on the side.

“McCree here.”

“Two things. First off, come pick up yer damn arm. This ain’t a business, I ain’t holding it for ya.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, hey Torby-”

“Stop calling me that,” the Swedish man grumbled. “Second thing is I was told to give you gear for yer next mission.”

McCree’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Already? How come I didn’t hear-”

“Don’t ask me,” he interrupted. “Ask the captain when you get here.”

There was a click and the line shut off. McCree rubbed a hand down his face then turned to Hanzo with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, darlin’. Guess your brother’ll have to wait.”

Hanzo’s shoulders sagged forward in relief. It only meant that he’d have even longer to dread the task, but for the time being he was fine with that. “Why? What is it?”

“That meddlin' captain, that’s what. She probably wanted me outta here as soon as possible,” McCree grumbled as he about-faced and headed for the engineering workshop. “Don’t get me wrong, I respect her an’ all, plus she’s a damn good shot- hell, she gave me a few tips when I first got here- but man, get on her bad side and she’s like a tornado full of sharks.”

Hanzo tilted his head. “If sharks were in a tornado would they not be dead?”

McCree waved off the question, dread staving off any humor. “It’s just a saying. Point is I got on her bad side with my latest screw up, so now she’s punishin' me personally.”

As they returned once more to the clamoring workshop, the pit in McCree’s stomach grew when he spotted the good captain chatting with Torbjörn. She looked over just as he entered like she had some hooligan radar and waved him over, smiling with all the friendliness of a hungry tiger. He took a deep breath and strode forward with an equally phony grin.

“Mornin’ Captain, Torb,” McCree greeted. “Whatcha got for me?”

Torbjörn held up a metal prosthetic, grunting. “If it’s faulty, blame her. Captain Amari ‘convinced’ me the other day to speed up work on your arm, so here it is.”

McCree gently grabbed the new arm and Hanzo hovered over his shoulder as he turned it around. It was obvious right away that the limb was of far better quality than the clunky white one he currently wore. It was heavier but surprisingly light for how much metal must’ve gone into it. There were hydraulic joints connected by a thin tube with more intricate workings in each joint of the fingers. The palm was sectioned as well as the forearm, probably for flexibility and weight, and a series of small armor plates covered many exposed areas. Most notable was the stylized skull on the back of the arm. It was made of a different colored metal and the teeth stretched down to meet the plating just above the wrist.

“Looks tacky,” Hanzo quipped.

McCree waved the arm at him, the hand backslapping through his face. Though it didn’t do anything the demon did back up.

“Hey! That’s not a toy, McCree,” Torb scolded him. He snatched away the appendage and pointed at a spare stool. “Now sit. You can wave it around all ya want when it’s attached.”

The captain laughed as he obeyed. “Can’t stop being a child even when you’re a middle-aged man, can you Jesse?”

McCree kept his focus on the new arm, bracing himself for the transfer as the engineer began unhooking his current prosthetic. “No ma’am. Where would the fun in life be if I did?”

“I suppose you’re right.” She leaned against the workbench and crossed her arms. Captain Amari was fairly slender, and with the wrinkles and grayed hair she would look practically harmless if it weren’t for the large eye-patch and feralness behind her face. She was not one to be trifled with, especially if her motherly instincts kicked in.

“Do treat your new arm with care, though. I only asked Torbjörn to speed up his work so that you would have it in time for your next mission, but I know it can be dangerous to rush these sorts of things.”

The dwarf mumbled something unintelligible but venomous. McCree flinched as he yanked out the defunct prosthetic. “Well in that case, I’m not sure whether or not to thank ya. What is this mission anyway? Torb said you’d fill me in.”

She smirked at the salty retort. “You’ll be happy to know it’s a solo mission. We don’t have anyone else available for you at the moment, and it came up out of the blue.”

That gained his attention. He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“There was a break in at a high-profile factory two days ago,” she began, grabbing a tablet off of the bench beside her and flipping through it. “Everything was destroyed, even the building. The next day an entire office block was blown up as well. It was the same company that owned the factory.”

“Same perps?”

“Presumably. The culprits were found outside of the rubble of the factory by police, but they got away. No one managed to see who blew up the office since it was such a large explosion.”

There was a loud click as the metallic arm was set in place and a jolt of electricity ran from McCree’s upper arm to his head, making him jump and nearly a shout. Instead he bit his lip and jiggled his leg, hoping to distract from the slowly fading sting.

“Keep still, you bloody fool! I still have to lock it in place and troubleshoot it!” Torb smacked his restless leg with a small screwdriver-looking tool.

McCree stopped moving but he dropped his chin in his free hand, looking slightly nauseous. The captain shot him a sympathetic look. Hanzo meanwhile drifted over to the table next to him and sat down on it, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward to watch Torbjörn work.

“So I’m goin’ after the culprits, is that it?” McCree mumbled out, refusing to unclench his jaw.

The captain tapped on the tablet and turned the screen to him. There were two ‘wanted’ listings brought up, the pictures of a pair of scruffy looking men above a long list of offenses. “There’s only two, which is why we feel comfortable sending just one agent. However you should take caution. Main weapons are explosives and a heavily modified shotgun.”

She turned the tablet back to her and scrolled, listing off what she read. “They’re wanted for robbery, arson, murder, and numerous other crimes, but they’ve been difficult to catch for years now. They’ve managed to rack up quite the bounty.”

McCree smirked, feeling the familiar excitement of a risky chase. “Keep talkin’.”

“They’re Australian-”

“Whoa, whoa. You ain’t plannin’ on sending me to  _ that _ wasteland, are ya?” He put his hand to his chest. “Do you hate me that much, Captain Amari?”

“Ha. If I hated you you would be dead by now, Jesse.” She turned off the tablet and tucked it under her arm. “You’re not going to the Outback; we are not that crazy. They’ve been spotted in Sydney, so that is where you will be dropped. It is relatively safe there.”

Finally Torbjörn stepped back, tapping his shoulder to signal he was done. McCree lifted his new hand to his face, waving the metal fingers back and forth. It was worlds more responsive than his previous prosthetic with much more natural movement to boot. He clenched and unclenched his fist and grinned, happily turning the limb every way he could think of.

“Alright, I’m ready.”


	8. Fraternize

Although he had been gung-ho to chase after another bounty, McCree was significantly less excited by the time the plane touched down in Sydney. He stumbled out of the aircraft with one arm protectively wrapped around his stomach and the other clutching his duffel like a lifeline. He moved slowly and steadily into the airport, gray demon walking behind him and letting out a breathy sort of laugh.

“Of all things, I’m surprised it’s motion sickness that can shut you up.”

The cowboy wavered dangerously and paused to lean heavily against a wall. “Look,” he spit out, trying to keep his mouth as closed as possible lest something else be tempted to come up. “It ain’t motion sickness. I just… don’t like flyin’, okay? Goin’ too fast too high in the air.”

He dropped the duffel to slap his hand over his mouth and swallowed deeply. “If man were meant to fly we’d’ve been born with wings.”

Hanzo hummed, not even attempting to hide his sly grin. “We were not born with hover wheels on our feet, either, but you have no problem with cars.”

“Different thing entirely,” McCree argued. He took a couple of deep breaths before picking his bag back up and stalking through the airport. Whether it was his spurs and grim face or the paleness of his complexion advertising that he might hurl at any moment, people gave him a wide berth as he made a beeline for the nearest bathroom. After splashing cold water on his face and a few more calming breaths he finally felt well enough to walk without nausea.

Not that Hanzo would let up on his jokes- were they jokes? They seemed more like taunts to try and make McCree miserable.

“Now that we are in more desert country, does that mean you feel more at home?”

“No,” McCree rolled his eyes and clipped a wireless device to his ear. There were no batteries in it, but at least he could pretend he was on a phone call instead of looking crazy for arguing with thin air. “Not the same kind of weather, genius.”

“Is it because there are no tumbleweeds?”

“There  _ are _ tumbleweeds in Australia.”

“Then how is it different?”

“Don’t know if you noticed the giant ocean on the way here, partner, but if not you’re pretty piss poor at using your eyes for an archer.”

Despite his lack of pupils McCree could sense that the demon rolled them. The two exited out into the warm air, humidity and fresh smells doing wonders for McCree’s last traces of plane sickness. He pulled out his phone and brought up the directions to his hotel which was, naturally, almost in on the complete other side of the city. Yet another small punishment probably arranged by Captain Amari. He’d have to pay a steep taxi fare for sure.

When the taxi he’d called for ahead of time pulled up there was a problem right away. The driver was an omnic which surprised McCree since last he heard they weren’t welcome in most places in Australia, but that wasn't the main issue. After all, Blackwatch had a few omnic agents that worked great, and his best friend supposedly kept in close contact with an omnic monk. No, the problem was that they insisted on taking care of McCree’s luggage.

All he had was a black duffel full of extra weapons, spare cash, fake ID, and his precious collection of vintage Alexander Henry print boxers. He could care less about most of the other things since Peacekeeper and his favorite hat and belt buckle were on him 24/7, but it had taken him a long time to find those particular boxers. He couldn’t understand why people hadn’t made more with that fabric company, since it had such great designs and even a whole Santa Fe collection! No way was he letting something so valuable be tossed into some  _ trunk _ .

“Sir, please let me-” the omnic tried in their tinny voice.

“No, really, I can’t bear to let it outta my sight,” McCree insisted.

“But sir, it is part of my job.”

The cowboy firmly shook his head, hands grasping tightly to the duffel even as the omnic held their arms out to take it. “No can do, buckaroo.”

Hanzo was observing all of this transpire while leaning leisurely against the taxi. “Why won’t you just let it do it’s job?”

McCree shot him a withering glare. The demon was fully aware he couldn’t answer him at the moment but attempted conversation anyway. He turned back to the omnic driver, leaning in conspiratorially. “To be honest with you, this here has my granny’s ashes in it. She used to love coming here t’ Sydney, so I promised her when she died I’d take her back here. But you know how customs is with that kind of thing. Had to hide her ashes in all sortsa little boxes and whatnot. It would just make me feel more comfortable having it in the seat with me.”

The driver tilted his head. His face was expressionless just like every other omnic but Jesse got the impression he was considering whether or not the cowboy was telling the truth. He must’ve decided he didn’t care enough to keep arguing because he just shrugged and went back to his seat on the other side of the vehicle.

McCree let out a breath of relief. Hanzo huffed.

“Were you honestly that paranoid that he would discover the weapons?”

“It ain’t just that. I got some important things in here,” McCree said around his smile. He slipped into the cab, the door going right through Hanzo’s side. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to the ghostly phasing thing. Despite this he left it open for the demon out of instinct. The driver tilted their head at him again through the rear-view mirror.

Realizing his mistake McCree hurriedly reached over and slammed it shut. Hanzo stepped into the space as soon as he sat back, sitting partially in the duffel bag.

“What else is in here?”

Begrudgingly McCree pulled out his phone and tapped at the blank screen, then pressed a finger to his clunky earpiece. “Hey. Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, darlin’.”

The demon pointedly stared at him as he motioned at his half-bag body. “I can just check it if you don’t feel like telling me.”

“No!” McCree said a little too loudly.

“Sir?” The driver glanced at him in the mirror.

McCree chuckled, cupping his earpiece. “Sorry. The husband’s worrying about me. First time I been so far from home.”

An offended snort came from his side. McCree looked over to see said ‘husband’ with his eyebrows reaching for his hairline, one hand delicately placed on his chest. His fangs were more prominent, curling outward from his mouth. Deciding to push his luck, McCree winked at him.

“Aw, love you, too, sweet pea.”

After that Hanzo spent the entire ride through town sitting cross-legged atop the car. McCree tried arguing with him about it but then Hanzo pointed out it wasn’t like the wind could push off an incorporeal being. It had also come as a shock that they could hear each other as if Hanzo never left the cab, but that was chalked that up to the weird demon bonding thing. Meanwhile the omnic driver had been very patient as McCree argued with himself but once they hit the main part of the city it was hard to talk. He felt like he had been thrust into an action movie; every turn was taken just a little too soon, every red light was stopped at mere inches from the car in front. It made him seriously question whether or not the demon would get thrown into the street.

Just to be on the safe side he held his hand to his fake earpiece and peered up. “Hey. You alright, there, darlin’?”

To his surprise, the demon heard him. The upper half of his head popped through the roof, brows furrowed in annoyance. The sudden intrusion startled McCree into pressing himself against the seat, his eyes growing wide and his heart hammering in his ears.

“What do you want?”

McCree shakily gripped his chest. “I was jus’ checking in. Almost at the hotel, y’know.”

The look changed to one of ‘really?’ “I already told you I’m fine. I’m attached to you, not the cab or pesky things like gravity.”

McCree couldn’t help his cheeky smile. “Aw, so you like me after all.”

“I would sooner feed myself to dogs.” The head ascended back through the roof, though his voice was still clear as day. “You’re barely tolerable.”

“But that still means I’m tolerable, which means you don’t  _ completely _ hate me,” McCree countered.

“Do not delude yourself.”

“Next thing ya know you’ll be helpin’ me carry my bags and opening doors.”

A short laugh of disbelief. “I wouldn’t waste my energy on such things.”

True to his word, as soon as they arrived at the hotel Hanzo hopped off the car and ghosted through the glass doors. He stood in the lobby with his arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently as he stared at McCree. The cowboy couldn’t help but laugh, which earned him a curious head tilt from the driver. He didn’t elaborate, though, merely paying the driver and lugging his duffel out from the seat beside him and making a show of how heavy it was as he walked up the stairs to the lobby.

Inside was pumping with cool air, the lobby all polished stone and sleek metal trim. Past the reception desk the halls were lined with a worn baby blue carpet which personally McCree thought looked kind of tasteless. His room three stories up, however, had a much more appealing regal blue rug with a bit of plush to it.

Eager to feel the soft squish beneath his feet the cowboy hauled his bag onto the double sized bed, carefully placed his hat on top, stripped his boots and socks off, and laid back on the floor with a sigh. He closed his eyes in contentment. Hanzo floated over his, arms still crossed. He stared at the cowboy in mild disbelief, with his hair splayed out on the ground and a lopsided smile painted on his face.

McCree looked up at his and patted the space next to him. Hanzo frowned and shook his head.

“When are you going on your hunt?”

“Hold your horses, partner. We just got here,” McCree said, interlacing his fingers behind his head. “Gimme a bit to find the snack machine an’ I’ll get started. Eventually.”

The demon bared his fangs, displeased.

McCree raised a brow in suspicion. “Why you so eager to leave? You wanna watch me fight that badly?”

Hanzo floated away in response. He perched on the windowsill overlooking the city. Then it clicked.

“You wanna go sight seein’!” McCree yelled, jumping up and snapping his fingers.

Hanzo whirled around. Caught. “What? No! Idiot.”

McCree picked up his hat and set it firmly on his head. “Ha, sure ya don’t. That’s why you were sittin’  _ inside _ the cab earlier, too.”

Hanzo turned away quickly, but McCree caught a glimpse of the darkening of his gray cheeks. “You are mistaken.”

Jesse stepped closer. “Y’know, if you want to go lookin’ at stuff, all you have to do is ask.”

Those strong shoulders hunched nearly imperceptibly. There was silence, and the cowboy was ready to drop the topic altogether when Hanzo finally spoke quietly. “It would be…  _ was _ unseemly for a Shimada heir to be playing tourist like a stupid child.”

McCree tipped his hat, his smile loosing the teasing edge. So that was the issue. He looked back at his duffel, then Hanzo. “Well… I ain’t never been to Sydney before, so I’m probably gonna have to do some recon if you’d like to join me.”

Hanzo perked up and half spun around, staring at McCree.

“If recon is something more fitting for you, that is, Nightlight.”

There was a ghost of a smile before Hanzo cleared his throat and schooled his features. “I will gladly join you, Agent McCree. You could use the help anyway.”

Jesse laughed as he threw one of his socks at the demon.

\--

They had been out for nearly two hours. Mostly it was because McCree ended up getting lost, but that was because Hanzo would start wandering off on his own and McCree had to go looking for him. He wasn’t sure how the bond worked, but every time the demon would start to get too far away he would feel a tugging from one direction, like a dog on a leash. He’d follow it until the feeling went away and he’d find himself in the general area his shadow had run off to.

It was very amusing at least. Hanzo looked like a dignitary strolling around, inspecting the city the same way a businessman would appraise a new venture. But the small smirk and the crinkle of his eyes betrayed his giddiness. After visiting a nearby beach and Hanzo complaining about the screaming children (a group of whom were either trying to drown each other while their sun burnt parents watched or were just way too short and inexperienced with swimming to be playing chicken) McCree tried leading him towards a shopping district, all tall shiny buildings and brightly colored advertisements.

That plan backfired a little bit unfortunately. Hanzo kept getting distracted by random stands and McCree would have to grind to a sudden stop and backtrack every time he did, much to the annoyance of anyone walking behind him. After the fourth time McCree put his hands on his hips, staring hard at the little onion-shaped plushies and keychains.

“Okay, no I  _ know _ you been doin’ that on purpose.”

“Doing what?” Hanzo asked absentmindedly.

He huffed. “Stopping at every other stand out of the blue. You’re jus’ trying to get me to crash into something.”

Hanzo barked a short laugh as he crouched and picked up one of the larger plushies. McCree’s eyes went wide and he quickly glanced at the vendor, who luck have it was busy ringing out a group of teenagers. The last thing he needs is people shouting about things suddenly floating around by themselves.

“If you get hurt because you are not paying attention, that is not my fault,” Hanzo said.

McCree grinned and crouched down beside him, pretending to be very interested in the notebooks featuring the smiling onion plastered all over the front. “Ain’t it your job to keep me from gettin’ hurt?”

A snort. “Hardly. I just have to keep you from dying. Currently that only involves keeping that hole in your chest closed.”

“You really fill the hole in my heart, Hanzo.”

“Do not presume you can call me that.” The demon turned to him and flicked his finger. McCree felt a sudden push on his chest, wobbling and falling back on his ass. He blinked and shot a pout to the perpetrator. Hanzo stood up, chuckling as he passed behind him and Jesse couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at the demon.

Hanzo ended up going into several stores, now definitely trying to embarrass McCree. First he went into a nerdy shop and started picking up and flipping through comics. McCree was quick to grab at them and put them back but each time the demon would just let him have it and move on to the next read. Then he floated through the glass door of a perfume shop which successfully got the bounty hunter to walk head first into the door from being right on his heels. McCree stepped inside, rubbing his nose, then held it against the pungent aromas as he trudged behind Hanzo. Deciding to up his game Hanzo insisted on smelling every sample. However McCree took the challenge in stride and held out his arm for the attendants and their variety of odors- not even the cybernetic one, the one he could easily wipe off, because the attendants informed him the perfumes wouldn't stick. He must’ve looked ridiculous, a rough and tumble cowboy going in to check out perfumes only to jerk his sprayed wrist out like they were burning his skin and not take a single whiff himself.

After awhile of failing to find a store McCree wouldn't follow him into or a situation he didn't agree to, Hanzo decided to go into a store simply too packed for McCree to follow. It was a small East Asian market from the looks of it, so Hanzo took his time. He floated above the crowd, perusing decorations and teas and incense at his leisure. The smells reminded him of his home back in Hanamura and going to the store with a young Genji in tow. Predictably each time his brother would beg for sugary sweets, and each time Hanzo would set his jaw and hold his ground. Yet each time they would leave the store with Genji munching on whatever treat he’d asked for, tugging on his older brother’s sleeve to try and get him to go to the arcade next.

He got caught up in the candy aisle, yearning for the ability to eat again so he might taste his childhood, when he remembered he wasn’t here alone. A glance to the front window showed the cowboy still waiting outside, tapping away on his phone while he chewed his unlit cigar. He kept furrowing his eyebrows as he habitually tapped with both hands only for the device not to respond- the touch screen didn’t register the metal thumb. He looked about ready to throw the phone down, but instead he just dropped his left hand altogether and shoved it in his pocket.

Taking pity on the gunslinger Hanzo decided to leave. It was probably better he didn’t dwell on the past anyway.

“Oi,” he called, getting his attention. McCree’s head snapped up and he smiled, sending a warmth through Hanzo.

“Well, about time, darlin’. Thought you might’ve gotten lost in there.”

“You can not get rid of me that easy.” Hanzo let his feet return to the ground and he plucked the cigar out of McCree’s mouth. McCree pouted but held out his hand for him to return the offending object.

“Well who says I’d want to?” McCree teased, tucking the cigar back into his pocket.

Hanzo’s head tilted back and away, the indication that he was rolling his eyes. “Come. There’s another store I want to find.”

McCree tipped his hat and happily followed along. Unfortunately the flow of shoppers had became a crowd while he’d lingered at the market. Since the demon wasn’t technically there several people kept brushing right through him. Hanzo didn’t seem to like the experience, so he made an effort to avoid it. Any hole in the crowd he would take, then look for the next spot where no one would touch him. This lead to a steadily growing gap between him and McCree to the point where the invisible leash started tugging between them. The cowboy had a hell of a time keeping track of the speed-walking demon, only managing to catch up when he stopped on a street corner, waiting to cross. With a sigh of relief McCree pushed his way through the waiting people to sidle up right next to Hanzo.

As luck would have it someone had the same idea; a man slightly shorter than Hanzo saw the empty space next to the weird cowboy tourist and filled the spot, completely overlapping with the demon. Hanzo jumped and immediately floated above the crowd, a shocked growl directed at the guy who took his place. The man shivered, as many did when they came in contact with him.

McCree was a little slack-jawed, the sight of someone else’s face poking out of Hanzo’s neck very, very unsettling. It was as if two characters in a video game had clipped into each other except with a scary amount of realism. He was so shaken he didn’t bother crossing when the lights changed.

He cleared his throat, eyeing his snarling skyward companion. “Hey, uh, Han? Mind if we call it quits today? Seems like there’s too many people around.”

With his face looking a little paler than usual, Hanzo seemed just as shaken as McCree. His four sharp fangs had grown to jut out from his lips and his horns had started to rise from his head. He nodded. “Yes, that seems like it would be a good plan.”

The cowboy tipped his hat and turned around, ready to walk away as fast as he could. A thought came to him however and he paused, looking back up at the wrinkled nose and the clawed hands gripping their own arms tightly, the eyes scrutinizing the milling people unaware of the demonic presence amongst them.

“Um, Hanzo... d’ you mind doin’ me a favor?”

It took a moment for Hanzo to drag his gaze away.

Jesse fiddled with the brim of his hat, unsure how to phrase his request. “Mind making somethin’ solid for me to hold onto? You ain’t gotta come down but… It’d be a pain in the ass to have t’ go lookin’ for ya again just ‘cuz I’m stuck on the ground and you can fly.”

He expected Hanzo to protest and promise to stay close instead, but to his surprise his mouth twisted in consideration before he extended his clothed arm downwards. With a small pleased smile McCree reached up with his flesh hand. He felt like he had dipped his fingers into a cool fog as they trailed down Hanzo’s barely solid wrist, dragging past his palm until they reached his fingers. He curled his fingers and Hanzo did the same, hooking them together. McCree turned back around and held their hands on his shoulder the same way one would carry a bag on their back. No one bothered looking to see if he actually was carrying a bag as he weaved his way through the crowd, Hanzo allowing himself to be gently pulled along.

His solid touch wasn’t nearly as cold as when he passed through him before, though his skin was still not quite warm enough to be a human’s. Considering the heat of the day it was a welcome coolness to Jesse. Briefly he wondered if the rest of Hanzo’s body was this cold, and he quickly squashed that thought before his own body could heat up. Then his thoughts went back to when Hanzo had picked him up off the floor- the display of power and strength and frustration. His skin had been colder then. Did it have something to do with the Australian heat? Or was it because Jesse’s hand was warming his while they retraced their steps through the city?

Either way, this was much more preferable to following the invisible leash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the probably the longest chapter yet. And as even more of a bonus I did some art for this chapter as promised: http://sugarmonkey.tumblr.com/post/164233987819/


	9. Accordian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be a twofer since it's been so long since the last update. I've hit a bit of a block in my writing but I hope to get around it soon.

McCree had to actually start his job now. His time playing tour guide for Hanzo was fun despite it being his first time in Sydney as well, but he was sent there on a mission after all, and if he messed up again Commander Reyes might not be as forgiving. Hell, they might take his new arm back.

His first issue to tackle was narrowing down where the culprits were. With as much publicity as the Hyde Global incident got it should have been easy. Twice so because they were Junkers, and those types mostly stayed in the Outback. As McCree’s luck would have it, though, it proved harder to find the sore thumbs than it initially seemed.

McCree sat scrolling through photos and security footage for what might've been hours, attempting to track where the odd pair could have gone. There was very little evidence after the attack on the business block since the whole place had gone up in flames and much of the area had been under construction, thus no security measures in place yet. Nonetheless the agency had managed to pull from whatever nearby cameras they could. The best McCree could tell the culprits had booked it south along the coast and he hazarded a guess that they'd keep to the city outskirts.

That was how he found himself in a bar that reeked of fish and bad decisions late at night.

It wasn’t that it was a particularly bad bar, it was that he could smell there was one long before he saw it. The beer wasn’t horrible and no one looked like they weren’t supposed to be there, though, so the cowboy settled into a corner to do some people watching.

Hanzo in the meantime sat across from him, glaring at the puddles of condensation on the wobbly black table, arms lax and hanging as he perched on a stool like a hawk.

“Does it really have to be this place?” he asked with a pull of his lips.

“Mmm, no, but it’s the most likely place to find information,” McCree hummed behind his glass. He took a sip, the ice cubes clinking against his lips, and the drink was gone far too quickly. He set it down and used the stir to poke at the cold monsters that took up more space than the alcohol.

“Then do you really have to drink? Aren’t you on the job right now?”

McCree shrugged as he pulled out his phone and put it to his ear. If they were gonna keep up a conversation he had to at least be less suspicious about it. “It’d be weird to come to a bar alone and not order somethin’.”

“If this is an attempt not to stand out your cowboy costume is counterintuitive,” Hanzo pointed out, jabbing a finger at him.

Jesse had the dignity to look taken aback. “Excuse you, this ain’t no costume. I will have you know I am a bona fide cowboy. Born and raised on a ranch in Santa Fe.”

Putting his elbow on his knee and careful not to touch the table, Hanzo leaned his chin in his hand and raised an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious.”

McCree smirked. “Darn tootin’ I am. Used to herd the cattle an’ take care of the horses. Even did a little bull ridin’ back in the day. Damn near broke every bone in my body doin’ it, too, but it was a hell of a thrill. Gave my Ma a heart attack every time.”

Hanzo laughed, imagining McCree sitting in the hospital with bandages everywhere and that stupid grin of his plastered on his face. “So why are you not still riding bulls and roping cattle?”

The smile faltered then faded altogether. Jesse tipped his hat down and sighed, going back to stabbing the ice. He watched the ice swirl and clank with a distant gaze. “Things change. It wasn’t always safe to be where we lived, what with the gangs comin’ through and settling in. Especially Deadlock. They had an eye on our property, wanted to use it fer hidin’ drugs and shit. Pa and Ma refused, so they killed all the animals. Didn’t stop my parents none. They were stubborn folk. Put up a hell of a fight, too, 'fore they were killed.”

He paused and Hanzo instinctually reached across the table. He put his hand over the one that was assaulting the remains of his drink, stopping the motion. McCree could feel the chill and the solid weight of it even through his leather glove. Neither of them moved and Hanzo thought that would be the end but the cowboy cleared his throat and continued.

“Deadlock picked me up after that. I had managed to take out three of ‘em with our shotgun. They said I had a helluva aim. Wanted to use that, teach me about guns. Threatened to kill me if I didn’t go with ‘em but I don’t think they needed to. I had nothin’ left at that point, nowhere to go and no family alive. The few times I tried to run they’d always catch me. Couldn’t survive long on my own. I went and became a regular ol' criminal like I been doin' it my whole life. Did whatever they told me to. Run trades, drug mule, bait- you name it I did it and I killed anyone that got in our way.”

He chuckled and smiled but it was hollow. “Kinda glad I lost my arm, though. Save me the trouble of figuring out how to get rid of my old gang tattoo.”

There was a moment of quiet. “Jesse…”

McCree looked up, a mix of bitterness and surprise on his face. “...You ain’t never called me that before.”

Hanzo retracted his hand, looking away and clearing his throat. “I, uh…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say in his defense. Instead he simply spat out “Don’t look too much into it, idiot.”

Jesse snorted and leaned on the table, stirring his partially melted ice with much less aggression than before. He hadn’t even told Genji the whole story yet here he was, spilling his guts to some ghostly demon and only one drink in. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Hanzo.”

McCree put down the cell phone, having mostly forgotten he’d been holding it, and felt around in his pockets for his wallet. Just as he managed to pull it out a man came over and placed a fresh glass in front of him. McCree raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, that was mighty quick an’ I appreciate it, but I didn’t order another one yet.”

The guy jerked his thumb back at the bar. “Some sheila bought it for ya.”

As the bartender left McCree leaned over to see a woman sneaking glances at him. She had long blonde hair, modest lipstick, and a suit coat draped over the back of her stool. She caught him staring and smiled, a blush on her cheeks. He lifted his drink in toast and gave her a wink, causing her to giggle. Hanzo balked at the display.

“What are you doing.” It wasn’t a question.

“My job,” McCree’s honeyed voice replied as he lifted the glass to his lips.

“But she is just a random-”

“Excuse me, mind if I take this seat?” The voice was slightly nasally and feather light. The small-framed woman stood by the table, purse in one hand and drink in the other. Her jacket hung off her arm which up close was decorated with a simple silver bracelet to match her plain silver earrings. She was the picture of unassuming, well-off but not flashy about it. Plain.

All the more reason Hanzo growled as he slunk away when McCree nodded, motioning to the chair he was in.

She delicately slipped herself into the chair as if she belonged there. A brief shiver ran through her as she sat down.

“Cold, buttercup?”

The woman smiled. “Just a chill.”

“Let me know if it stays, I might be able t’ warm you up.”

Another fit of giggles was suppressed by her long nailed fingers pressing to her lips.

Hanzo had trouble believing this was work. The woman looked absolutely useless for finding out where two wanted criminals could be hiding and more likely to just be a score for the night. Unless it was some contact that Blackwatch set up? But McCree had said they could’ve gone anywhere, so it must not be arranged. He crossed his arms and stood beside the gunslinger, trying to patiently see what game he was playing. If Hanzo was anything, he was patient.

“So tell me,” McCree said slowly, swirling his full glass. “What was the drink for?”

The woman shyly tucked some hair behind her head. “Looked like you were getting an earbashing. I thought a drink might cheer you up.”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He took a long sip of his drink then set it down, leaning in closer. “Awful kind of ya, though, honeybee. I appreciate it.”

She averted her eyes, playing with the rim of her cup. “It wasn’t your wife, was it?”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “‘Fraid I don’t got one of those. This stallion’s still wild.”

It was such an awful phrase, even this woman couldn’t possibly-

“Ha ha, you’re such a dag. I like funny Americans. Especially ones with those sexy Southern accents.”

Hanzo dragged a hand down his face. He wanted so badly to interrupt the way he’d done with many of McCree’s conversations but he was trying to get information (or so he said), so it was probably better not to distract him and mess it up. Besides, Hanzo wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t claw the woman’s eyes out for having such an annoying voice.

“Well I like your accent, too, little lady. What’s your name?” McCree asked, slowly sliding his right arm closer to her.

“Mia.” She fluttered her eyelashes, though it seemed to slightly disorient her. So she was either drunk or getting there. That explained the constant pink face she had that certainly wasn’t the bumbling cowboy’s doing.

“That’s a pretty name for a pretty lady,” McCree cooed, making her cheeks flush even more. Hanzo thinks he’s going to gag.

“What about you?”

Instead of answering he gently grabbed her hand from her cup and pulled it forward to kiss the back of it. “For a beautiful flower like yourself I’ll be whoever you want me to be.”

Dead, for starters, Hanzo thinks as he rolls his eyes. This woman didn’t deserve the attention he was throwing on her. He’d flirted with his fair share of people for information back when he was alive and heir to a clan of yakuza but this woman didn’t look like any of the rich patrons or secret crime lords he would tease vital secrets out of. She just looked like a regular working business woman with nothing special about her. Sounded like one, too.

He found himself leaning against McCree’s chair as the gross display in front of him continued. It was like McCree’s charming nature and Southern drawl had been amped up to new heights, flattery and unsubtle flirts thrown left and right like bullets breaking through the inebriated woman’s flimsy defenses. She tried flirting right back but was blown out of the water by the American’s adoring words.

“Tell me more about yerself, honey. You look too clean and proper to be in a fish hole like this.”

Mia sighs, shaking her head. “Not really. I got laid off of work recently, to be honest. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh bumblebee, that ain’t right,” McCree said, pouting. He moved his hand to her wrist, thumb rubbing in circles. “Who in the world would wanna get rid of such a sweet rosebud like you?”

She smiled and put her other hand over his. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special. Not like those dills at work. Whole buildin’ goes up in flames and they don’t even bother with a note telling me they’re not gonna give me a different job.”

Hanzo blinks. Oh. But how did McCree know?

“Sounds mighty dreadful, honey. Can’t imagine what you must’ve gone through.” McCree gives her a very sympathetic look. At this point he turns his hand over and holds hers, squeezing it lightly. She downs the rest of her drink and nods her head.

“It was awful. You’d think they’d transfer us clerks to their other offices, somewhere safer! But nope, they just fired us all. And after those two dirty hoons ran me over on my way home from the hospital- the big one scared the life out of me with that mask of his- I just had the worst day.”

“Aw, honeypie. You sound like you could use some good old Southern hospitality,” McCree tutted, pulling on her hand a little. “Why don’t you come a little closer t’ me and I can make you feel better?”

Okay, that was it. Hanzo wasn’t sure exactly how this would go down, since he’d only read about it and had planned on approaching the cowboy about it much later, but desperate times called for desperate measures. As the red faced girl struggled down from the too tall chair, hesitant smile plastered on her face, Hanzo slammed himself into McCree.

The cowboy jerked back in surprise but Hanzo wasn’t done with him yet. He poured energy into the tattoo, his seal, and reached out with his mind through the connection to the other side. McCree shuddered as if a sudden gust of wind blew over him and his forehead pinched.

“What in tarnation-” he started only to be cut off by the wind moving beneath his skin, over his mind. It was like winter suddenly came to the inside of his head and started knocking around.

 _May I interrupt?_ A voice, Hanzo’s voice, but it wasn’t in his ear. It was all around and nowhere at the same time.

_What do you- what are you doing, Hanzo?_

_Just answer. Am I allowed in?_

McCree was confused. Did the demon want to return to the tattoo? Genji had said it was where he went back to whenever he wasn’t out, and he’d been out for quite awhile.

_I mean, I ain’t gonna stop ya, but why you askin’ to-_

All at once McCree felt like he was floating, suddenly weightless and senses fuzzy. He was looking down at the floor but he wasn’t really. It was like watching a movie except it was through his own eyes. Eyes that blinked and closed when he didn’t tell them to, and he could vaguely feel his right arm come up to touch his face but it might as well have been the prosthetic for all it felt attached to him.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

McCree- but it wasn’t really McCree, just a puppet- looked up at Mia and smiled. She gasped and blinked heavily, as if trying to clear her vision.

“What’s wrong with your eyes? I could’ve sworn they went white for a second.”

“Sorry about that, but you were getting on my nerves.” McCree did not say that. He definitely didn’t move his own mouth and make those words come out.

Mia paused in her approach, hand halfway held out. “What?”

“Your voice has been aggravating me for the past hour. You should probably look into breathing strips or nasal surgery. It might help, but who knows.”

She stared, dumbfounded, all trace of her previous giggly and flirtatious self disappearing. “Excuse me. Where did this come from?”

The hand waved in dismissal. “It came from having to listen to this brainless conversation without saying anything I was thinking. You will do anything for a couple of compliments and a pretty face, wouldn’t you?”

Tears began to well up in her eyes and she stepped back, hands in fists. “You… you snake! You were having a lend of me, weren’t you? Is this funny to you? Faking an accent and talking up a girl just for a laugh?” Her voice broke.

The not-McCree crossed his arms. “No, I don’t find the situation funny at all. I find it to be avoidable at best, a waste of time at worst. There were so many easier ways to get so little out of you. It was aggravating to watch it drag on.”

She trembled, eyebrows drawn tight and jaw clenched against the words. But the fake McCree sealed the deal with his finale.

“He wasn’t faking his ridiculous accent, either. But he was leading you on, so if anything you should probably thank me for interrupting him. Whatever he had planned to do you were still going to be alone at the end of the night.”

Mia’s jaw loosened, her mouth hanging half open. “You’re crazy,” she muttered, turning and snatching her things. “You are right out of your mind, you are. I can’t believe I let myself do this.”

 _What in the fresh fuck is going on,_ McCree tried saying, but it came out as a thought reverberating around his mind. The woman stomped away, heels clicking like raindrops across the floor.

The eyes turned up and to the side as if they were trying to roll back into their sockets to look at him. “My apologies, but you were rambling on despite getting what you needed out of this-” the eyes turned back to Mia’s retreating form, “bonkura. I felt it necessary to stop this useless conversation before you took it too far.”

McCree was angry, and he was going to make sure that the one currently using his body as a toy knew it. _Hanzo! What the hell got into you? You can’t just go making people cry because you got bored! Christ! That ain’t right! Especially someone I’m not done interrogatin’!_

“You got lucky. How did you even know she was with the company?” he asked indignantly, though he was losing steam as his resolve crumbled. McCree could feel the forehead of his body get clammy.

_She had the company logo on her jacket, genius. I wouldn’t’ve called her over if I didn’t see that first._

The body flinched. “But you didn’t learn anything you didn’t already know.”

_I didn’t know the company’s got more offices that the targets could go to next an' I currently don’t know where those offices are. I didn’t know they ran by the hospital in their escape, and now I don’t know where that is or which way they went. I could’ve gotten more information outta her!_

Hanzo, in McCree’s body, looked down, fingers digging at his knees. Jesse wasn’t sure how but he could feel guilt as if it were water rushing down a slide towards him. “I am sorry. I was thinking selfishly.”

McCree sighed inside his mind. _You can’t do that, Hanzo. You can’t just... hop into my body and ruin what I was workin’ on. It’s literally part of my job to be talkin’ to people like that, gettin’ information so I can collect the bounty and get out quick as possible._

The arms were shaking ever so slightly. More guilt washed over him and something else. Nausea?

He almost wanted to apologize but that wouldn’t get his point across.

_And don’t take my body again, please. It’s… creepy feeling, bein' trapped in my own head like this._

“I cannot do it unless you agree to it,” Hanzo mumbled. “But I am sorry for tricking you into consenting. I will-” The hand slapped over his mouth.

_Hanzo?_

“I’ll give you your body back. Please, take it!” The last words were said with unexpected bite. McCree didn’t have time to question it, though, because suddenly the world was rushing at him, like coming up to air from a long dive under water.

He gasped, hands flinging out to grab the nearest objects to steady himself on. His palm dug into the edge of his chair and the table groaned under his metal hand but he couldn’t let go. Not until the floor stopped spinning.

 _Sorry,_ came Hanzo’s voice, faint and wobbly. The chill over his mind steadily eased away. _It’s been so long since I’ve had a body I was feeling sick._

“Just… go. Go back to the tattoo,” Jesse said through gritted teeth.

The last tendrils of iciness slipped away from his brain, leaving him in a cold sweat. Hanzo didn’t appear again for the rest of the night.


	10. Teamwork

McCree used the time alone to scout out hospitals near the ruins of the Hyde Global headquarters. He only had the general direction the perpetrators supposedly fled to go by, so it wasn’t easy going. Cursing his luck, McCree opted to request the patient lists over the past two days from the most likely hospitals. He sent it with a fake account and name, claiming to be one of the officers investigating the explosion. There was no more he could do until then.

With another dead end having popped up he decided to return to the hotel for the night. When he returned it was pitch dark in his room, duffel still laying in the closet and sheets neatly tucked around the bed. It seemed the only presence had been the cleaning lady. McCree grumbled as he slammed his door shut and flopped on the bed without bothering to turn on a light.

\--

The next day McCree was woken up by his phone beeping. He squinted into the room as he wiped drool from his beard. Empty.

He sat up and tossed his hat up on the bed. He hadn't bothered to get undressed or take his arm off when he fell asleep so he was paying for it. Hopefully a shower would fix that, though the notifications on his phone came first. He pulled the thin device out of his pocket and opened the burner email.

No dice on the lists. The hospitals refused to breach confidentiality even for an investigation.

He sighed and considered contacting Blackwatch. He was no hacker; the most he could do was pick locks and guess passcodes. He tossed the phone beside his hat and stretched. Wordlessly he kicked his boots off and undressed, then went through the process of unhooking his arm and grabbing fresh clothes for the bathroom.

It was weird to do it in silence. He’d become so used to waking up and Hanzo being there, looking at his things or reading something he managed to find. Sometimes he’d just be sitting in the chair across the room, knees drawn to his chest and looking at McCree, waiting. He almost always had an insult ready for right when the cowboy woke up. They’d start their banter while Hanzo would continue his non activity and McCree would go about his routine. He stopped following him into the bathroom after he was banned- Hanzo had phased through the wall at one point and asked where his books were, completely glossing over the fact that Jesse was in the shower and screamed at the head that suddenly appeared next to him.

But there was no floating demon in his shower today. McCree was much less angry about the incident at the bar by now, and if even a fraction of the guilt he had felt from Hanzo was still simmering in the demon then he was sure that he wouldn't pull a stunt like that again.

He’d managed to get dressed and even grab breakfast from the hotel before he got sick of the quiet. McCree strode out of the lobby and picked a direction and started walking. When he was about a block away he ducked into a small alley and put his hand over the tattoo.

“Are you done pouting yet or what?”

No response. McCree rolled his eyes and squeezed his arm. He wasn't sure if that would affect the demon or not, but he didn't care.

“Look, just promise to actually ask me before you possess me again, capiche? Besides, I could use your help, Nightlight. If you wanna make up for it you could come out and help me find something.”

Black smoke seeped between his fingers and onto the ground. Hanzo didn't always let McCree see him materialize, usually doing so before he woke up, but it was fascinating every time he did. The smoke swiftly billowed up into a flume then fell as if sucked inward by the form underneath. Hanzo stood there frowning, arms held tight to his sides.

McCree smiled. “Mornin’ darlin’.”

Hanzo’s nose crinkled in distaste. “What do you want?”

The cowboy clucked his tongue. “Aw, come on sour puss. I ain't mad at ya any more.”

Hanzo’s frown deepened but he didn't respond.

McCree sighed and bent his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. He turned and started walking once he was sure the demon was following. “I’m in a bit of a pickle. I been looking for which hospital our girl Mia was in an’ I managed to narrow it down to three of them, but I can't get ahold of the patient lists to find out which one for sure.”

Hanzo snorted at the use of ‘our.’ He wanted nothing to do with that woman.

“Even if I do get ahold of those lists it’s gonna be a bit to figure out which one’s her since I didn't get to swipe her ID like I was tryin’ to do.”

“I thought you said you weren’t mad,” Hanzo grumbled, crossing his arms.

Jesse fingered the brim of his hat. “I ain’t mad, just a lil’ frustrated. But that’s where you come in.”

He stopped and grinned at Hanzo, who felt himself deflate at the sight. “You can get in there no problem, take a peek at the lists, and bibbity boppity bail the heck outta there with no one knowin’.”

Bringing a hand to his forehead, Hanzo sighed. “I can't just go wherever I want, McCree. We have been through this.”

“Yeah I know, I know. That’s why I brought us here,” he said, gesturing behind them. Hanzo looked up to see a gleaming seven story building, all chrome and white with a giant neon blue sign with a white cross glowing above the entrance. He hadn’t even noticed it before.

“So you let me know how close I gotta get ya and you do the rest. That alright with you, partner?”

He couldn't believe the stupid grin on McCree’s face but then again he was pretty sure the man was made of dumb luck and sunshine. With a long suffering sigh Hanzo gave up. “Where would they be keeping the list?”

“That’s the spirit!” McCree slapped him on the back, his hand passing right through and making Hanzo glare. “Uh, sorry, I keep forgettin’.”

“You are asking me to break into a hospital because I do not fully exist in this realm. How could you have forgotten already?” Hanzo deadpanned.

A hint of red tinted McCree’s ears as he laughed and started walking toward the hospital entrance. “Guess you’re right. Anywho, the files should be kept on a computer at the nurse’s station, which if I had a guess that would be past the security desk. Since she was in an’ out in a day they prolly dealt with her in the emergency wing.”

He pointed at the wide lane off to the side of the hospital with a sign that read ‘emergencies only.’ They passed a couple of people coming out of the hospital as they made it through the glass doors of the main entrance. The security desk stood long and imposing in front of them, the guard looking like she needed either twelve cups of coffee or a week of straight sleep. Hanzo rubbed his chin in thought, trying to guess the distance to the emergency nurse’s station.

“You will have to move past the security guard,” he said slowly. “If you can get about halfway to the emergency room I can cover the rest of the way myself.”

McCree rubbed the back of his neck. “‘Course it’s gotta be past here. Whelp, no one ever said this was gonna be easy.” He put on a bright smile and approached the guard who did not seem phased.

“Can I help you with something?” She droned.

“Yeah, uh, I lost my wallet yesterday while I was visiting my uncle, an’ it’s got my ID and everything. D’you think I could go up and check for it?” He leaned against the table, all shy smiles and charm.

Her expression didn't change. “No.”

His smile faltered. “No? How come?”

She brought her pen up and pointed the business end at him. “Only visitors with a pass can go see patients. Since you don't have an ID, you can't get a pass.”

His face fell. “Well how am I supposed to get my wallet then?”

Hanzo walked behind the desk as she slowly set her pen down and tapped at something on her screen. “I can ring up the appropriate desk and ask if the staff there can look for it. What was your uncle’s name?”

McCree side-eyed the demon as he rifled around her desk and plucked something off of it. Her pen. “That’s kinda close, Han,” he hissed.

Hanzo’s head shot up and he shook his head. The security guard tilted her head and her brows furrowed, the first change in her expression the whole conversation. “What?”

“Er, I said it’s kinda close, hon. His room is practically down the hall. You sure I can't just pop in for a second?”

“No, sir,” she sighed. The demon carefully set the pen down and crept back around the desk as she continued talking. “You can't go back there without a pass; it’s the rules. Don't make this more difficult than it has to be. What is your uncle’s name and room number?”

Hanzo’s hand disappeared into Jesse’s pants pocket and he jumped, feeling the cold fingers wiggle into the fabric. Was now really the time to be coping a feel?

“Sir?”

“Tell her you found your pass,” Hanzo said, removing his hand from the tight clothing. Why couldn't the idiot wear a jacket or at least looser pants? He had to practically crush his fingers to jam that thing in there.

“Oh, uh. Hang on a sec, darlin’,” McCree said, patting around his person. “I think I might still have my pass somewhere- ah!” He pulled the crinkled sticker from his pocket, flashing it in triumph. “Would this work?”

She frowned and held out her hand. McCree handed it over and she studied it before shrugging and typing the name into her guest log. “I guess it’s fine as long as you actually wear it instead of carrying it. Go ahead.” She returned the pass and motioned at the hall behind her. “Don't cause any more trouble, though, Mr. James.”

He tipped his hat at her in thanks as he peeled the sticker off and slapped it on his chest. As the agent scurried down the hall he plucked at his shirt to read the tag upside down. He raised his eyebrow and smiled at Hanzo, who was silently walking beside him.

“Really? ‘Jesse James’?”

“It was short notice. The guard didn’t say anything so it is not like there’s a problem.” Hanzo shrugged. “Probably because you look like the name fits you.”

“You get on a train that just so happens to be in the middle of bein’ robbed and suddenly you’re an outlaw,” McCree mumbled, rolling his eyes. It earned him a sidelong glance from Hanzo who wasn’t sure if he was talking about Jesse James or himself. “You coulda at least picked a cowboy that don’t have the same first name.”

“Then next time you should come up with one,” the demon groused and crossed his arms. “Maybe you should lose the ridiculous hat and boots, as well. It’s a bit on the nose.”

“And what is wrong with the way I dress?” McCree huffed. “Most people find it charmin’.”

“You have actual spurs on your feet. How is that at all helpful when you have to sneak around?” Hanzo tried to come across as chiding, but he couldn’t help the small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “No one dresses like a cowboy unless they are wearing a costume.”

“Pretty rich, comin’ from a poster boy for Halloween,” McCree retorted, bite also absent from his words. “You look like a trick or treater that got too into it.”

“At least I get powers out of it. The only thing you get from that outrageous outfit is parents warning their children to look away.”

McCree laughed, stifling it behind his hand and slowing down. He came to a stop beside a map on the wall. “A little bitter, aren’t ya Nightlight?”

Hanzo flushed in embarrassment and looked away, jaw set. “I can’t help that. I haven’t come out at night just so it doesn’t keep you up, so you should drop the nickname.”

“Aw, you don’t gotta go away on account of me.” McCree smirked. “‘Sides, it don’t bother me none. I’m just teasin’ ya.”

Hanzo’s shoulders hunched and his cheeks darkened a little more. He decided it was best to change the subject before he blurted out anything else that could incriminate himself. “Are we close to our objective yet?”

McCree hummed, scratching his chin as he looked over the map. “Looks like it’s ‘round the corner here, just past the elevators. Need me to find somewhere to hunker down closer?”

“Yes. The closest corner of the elevator bay will do,” Hanzo said, pointing to the position on the map. McCree gave him his usual winning smile and a tip of the hat and headed off to his post.

Hanzo really didn’t need him that close, but then again he also didn’t bother telling McCree his infiltration plan could’ve been avoided by just standing outside the hospital’s emergency entrance. Even if he wasn’t practically a ghost he would’ve been able to get in and out with the information by now but... It was less lonely to do the sneaking together. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. Especially not to the smug cowboy. He would probably have a field day, taunting Hanzo about it endlessly.

Hanzo silently walked over to the desk, still within eyesight of the cowboy. There were a handful of nurses at the station, some coming and going and others busy on the phone or typing away at the computers. If he wanted a shot at looking through their files, he was going to have to pull their attention away. He looked back at McCree, who was not so subtly crouching against the wall, peering out of the doorway that lead to the elevators. He saw Hanzo looking and flashed him a thumbs up, causing Hanzo to roll his eyes and turn back to the task at hand.

The demon glanced around the room and saw his opportunity: an elderly person hobbling to the snack machine on a pair of crutches. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do but he had a mission to complete. Hanzo lifted his hand and flicked his wrist, sending the crutches flying across the floor. The person fell with a cry of surprise and the nurses shot up. A couple of them rushed over, tutting over the fallen patient while two went to go retrieve the crutches which had skittered underneath the waiting chairs.

Quick as lightning Hanzo was at the computers, typing and navigating through the logs on screen until he found what he was looking for. He frowned as he skimmed through the list; they were organized by last name and at least a dozen ‘Mia’s and variations were popping up. He switched tactics and looked for time of day. None of them were around the time of the explosion, and there was only one after but it was several hours later. He clicked on the name- they were there for an ear infection. A dead end.

A nurse in blue and green scrubs startled him as he reached through his arm to the coffee cup beside the computer. Hanzo jumped and quickly backed up. The man didn’t seem to notice, too focused on getting his caffeine fix. As McCree had said earlier, it was time to bail the heck out of there.

He quickly strode back to the bewildered cowboy and motioned for them to skedaddle. McCree got the hint and stood, jogging a little to catch up to Hanzo.

“So you find anything?”

Hanzo shook his head. “None that might be her.”

McCree rubbed the back of his neck. “Whelp, one down, two to- hold up.” He paused, pushing himself against the side of the hallway to make room for the gurney being rapidly pushed past him by a team of alert hospital staff. The person was mostly hidden by the bustling bodies around them but there were clear burn marks along one side of their body accompanied by small rocks peppering their skin. The smell of charred flesh wafted into the air as they passed. Quickly the patient disappeared behind a set of wide double doors labelled ‘surgery.’

Squinting his eyes, McCree pulled out his phone and opened a news app. A crooked smile graced his face and Hanzo thought he looked entirely too happy for someone who just got a noseful of burning human. The cowboy turned his screen to Hanzo and the demon leaned in, curious. It was an alert about an explosion that just occurred not too far from where they were, shutting down several roadways after a bridge had been taken out.

“Looks like the prey just slipped up, Nightlight.”


	11. Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies. I meant to upload this sooner, when I finished writing chapter 14, but life got in the way.  
> CONTENT WARNING: The end of this chapter contains a scene where McCree kills innocent cops. He briefly touches on it at the beginning of the next chapter as well.

Hanzo sat on the hotel bed absent mindedly picking at the thin fabric of the blanket. He was trying to decide if it was worn out fleece or some strange synthetic wool. Either way it was gross and he didn't see how McCree could stand to sleep with it. He also didn’t see what could possibly be taking McCree twenty five whole minutes in the bathroom. He had rushed them back to the hotel only to go digging through his duffel and shuffling off to the bathroom with a white plastic bag. Hanzo tried asking him about it but he only said “no time, darlin’, just gotta get changed into this damn thing.”

He was endlessly curious about what the ‘damn thing’ could be but he was going to respect the cowboy’s privacy. In the bathroom anyway. Bored of simply sitting there the demon slipped off the bed and sat cross legged in front of the duffel. Maybe there was something at least mildly entertaining in there.

The cowboy left it unzipped so Hanzo flipped the top flap up and started plucking things out and setting them aside. It was mostly a mess of crumpled shirts and plaid which didn’t surprise Hanzo in the slightest. He picked up a black t-shirt and held it out. It was a little worn down, a couple holes starting to form in the bottom, but the symbol on the sleeves was still clearly printed. A white angular skull with red eyes and the shape of a sword cut from it’s forehead. It was surrounded by a red and white circle. He’d seen the symbol on other’s shirts and uniforms back at the base, so it must’ve been Blackwatch’s symbol. It fit the bounty hunting organization very well.

Hanzo brought it to his chest to fold it and the smell of cigar smoke and detergent and spices drifted to his nose. He paused in surprise; he hadn’t been able to interact with much in the physical world since it took a fair amount of concentration and energy, so his sense of smell was pretty much gone as a result. Perhaps it was because he was pouring energy into his presence just so he could snoop around a bag of clothes. Tentatively he took the fabric and brought it closer to his face. He could smell sunlight and sweat, feel the soft texture from years of use. It made him wonder when Jesse got the shirt and how often he must’ve worn it for it to be so well loved. It was the most connected he’d felt to this world since he’d come back.

Well, besides when he’d possessed McCree. But that had been… nauseating. Everything  _ felt _ too much, like someone had tapped into his dulled senses and flooded them. His skin felt alien yet he was acutely aware of every brush of clothing or gust of air. His ears had been strangely rounded and his hearing slightly worse on one side. The prosthetic arm weighed heavy and unwieldy but responded as if it was merely a numb limb. All of it had overwhelmed him.

This was very different. It was almost pleasant. He pressed the shirt to his face, closing his eyes. His own private moment of just enjoying feeling again.

A grunt came from the bathroom, jerking him out of his reverie. He quickly tossed the shirt into the pile, suddenly aware of what he was doing. In an attempt to erase his mind of how ridiculous he must’ve looked he tugged at the zipper around the bottom of the duffel. Hopefully there was something in there to distract him. He managed to pull it all the way around and started to lift the top up when McCree poked his head out of the bathroom.

“Hey Han, do you know how to- hey! What’re you doin’ in my bag?”

Hanzo quickly dropped the bag and turned an innocent gaze to McCree. The cowboy had his brows furrowed and his normally haphazard brown hair actually brushed and smoothed back. He opened the door and stepped out, revealing neatly pressed black suit pants with a thin black tie sitting undone around his neck. A leather strap and holster held his pistol up under his arm. His white button up shirt was rolled up over his elbows and the suit jacket was hanging in the crook of his prosthetic. Whatever smart aleck remark Hanzo had been prepared to say died on his dry tongue.

“Jeez. Can’t leave ya alone for five minutes, can I?” McCree clucked and set the jacket on the bed. His hands went up to fix with his tie, Hanzo’s eyes following their movement. “Anyway, can you help me out here? The buckle on this dang vest keeps coming loose an’ I don’t know how to fix it.”

It took him a moment to process that words were being spoken to him but he eventually nodded and stood up.

“Thanks, darlin’,” McCree said with a smile.

He turned around and Hanzo got a nice view of his broad shoulders beneath the smooth silk back of the vest. The demon’s gaze travelled up and down his backside, vaguely wondering what it was Jesse wanted him to do. He saw two straps dangling off of the waist, a small gold buckle barely hanging on to one of them. That was probably it.

He stepped up and started to fiddle with the contraption, trying not to concentrate too hard on the smell of fresh cologne and hair products. He cleared his throat.

“So what is this for?”

“Hm? Oh. I’m goin’ undercover. You were right earlier, the cowboy thing don’t always work out.”

Hanzo’s face heated up as the rumble of the cowboy’s laugh could be felt from how close he was.

“I don’t like goin’ in disguise all that often but Reyes practically made it law that I gotta carry ‘normal’ clothes with me on every mission. Says it’ll be bad if someone recognizes me as ‘that cowboy fucker’.”

“Wouldn’t that make you someone who fucks cowboys?” Hanzo mumbled as he wrestled with the metal clasp. It just did not want to keep a grip on the silk straps. No wonder the clunky fingered McCree couldn’t get it.

Jesse laughed again, louder and full-bodied. It ended up pulling the straps from Hanzo’s grip and the demon retaliated by slapping him on the shoulder.

“Stand still.”

McCree took a breath and stopped moving, but small laughs kept coming. “Sorry, darlin’, I just didn’t expect you to make a joke like that. ‘Sides, I don’t  _ only _ sleep with guys that wear cowboy hats.”

Hanzo made a small strangling noise. “...I’m not your ‘darlin’,” Hanzo managed to huff, not sure whether to suffocate McCree with his own tie or to melt into a puddle of smoke and hide in the tattoo. Both sounded very appealing.

Instead he finished fixing the buckle and quickly stepped away. McCree turned around, tie surprisingly neat and tucked into his vest, and tugged his sleeves down before slipping into his jacket. Then he pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the chest pocket, popped them on, and smoothed out the front of the jacket before looking expectantly at the demon.

“Well? Whattaya think?”

Hanzo frowned and turned away. “I think you look like a gorilla in a suit.”

The agent patted his gun, making sure it wasn’t noticeable under the suit. “Well I think Winston looks fine in a suit, so I’m gonna take that as a compliment?”

“...What does that mean?”

“Now come on. We got ourselves a crime scene to investigate.”

\--

The roads were a wreck. Black streaks radiated from craters pock-marking the supports and under roads of a stretch of highway. Rubble was being slowly moved out of the way as reporters and police surrounded the hazardous area. McCree maneuvered his way through the chattering crowd like he was meant to be there. He skirted his way around the temporary caution signs and came to rest against one of the police vehicles. No one called him out or even seemed to notice that he wasn’t allowed that far, his professional look paying off. He leaned inconspicuously towards the front of the car, peeking in at the radio that was buzzing with activity.

“-heading southbound down A36 in a stolen truck, model SDR-076 in red. Confirmed hostage from aerial team. License plate number-”

A smirk. “Hey Hanzo. How do you feel about riding shotgun?”

Hanzo squinted, confused, then frowned deeply. “McCree, no. You are not stealing a cop car.”

He put his hands up, straightening up and moving closer to the driver’s side door. “I wouldn’t dream of it darlin’. That’s why I’m only borrowing it.” He opened the door and quickly hopped in.

“McCree,” Hanzo sighed, ghosting through the other door and settling into the passenger seat. “Just because you are in disguise does not mean you can just steal this vehicle. You might as well have kept the boots and hat if you were going to do this. It is just as obvious.”

“Nah, I’m gonna be a cop outta uniform. Just followin’ the chase,” McCree assured, waggling his eyebrows as he switched the thankfully-still-running hover car out of park. He put his arm on the back of the seat and looked behind him, then paused and looked down. “Uhhhh. Darlin’. You sure I’m the only one who can see ya?”

“Pretty sure. Why?” Hanzo asked, confused.

McCree pointed to the back seat. “‘Cause that dog sure as heck looks like it’s glarin’ straight at you.”

Hanzo turned around, startled to see a large German Shepherd staring him down with piercing brown eyes. It’s ears were alert and it’s narrow black nose was pressed against the cage separating the front and back seats. A tag dangling from it’s neck declared her name to be Mia.

“I cannot believe this.”

McCree chuckled as he started backing up. “I know right? Guess Mia’s helping us out after all.”

Hanzo crossed his arms. “I meant that you’re not only stealing a police officer’s vehicle but also their dog.”

The cowboy just laughed. “This ain’t even close to the craziest shit I’ve done. C’mon, we got a full day ahead of us to try and at least break the top ten.”

As it turned out, McCree was very good at turning a situation from bad to this-is-definitely-going-to-get-one-of-us-killed-and-it’s-not-going-to-be-the-spirit very quickly. They were blasting down the road, sirens blaring and swerving dangerously around the other vehicles. The taxi driver from the day before was one thing, but McCree’s driving was damn near deadly. He’d been miles behind the other cops in pursuit but soon overtook them. To make matters worse, the owner of the stolen hover car had noticed pretty quickly that his dog was missing and radioed in the distress signal. Being the only large vehicle with a big K-9 UNIT sign printed on it chasing down the stolen truck, they were easy to pick out.

Hanzo had eventually moved to the back seat to comfort the dog who had her ears pinned back and was whining. At least this Mia wasn’t as annoying as her human counterpart.

“McCree could you drive any more recklessly?” Hanzo hissed, one hand buried in the dog’s fur and the other furiously petting the top of her head.

McCree laughed. “I’m drivin’ careful as I can, darlin’. I go any slower an’ the targets might get away. Now where did I put my cigars...”

He let go of the wheel with one hand and started digging in his suit pockets. The dog let out a low whine as they skirted around a van, feeling the car tilt just enough to make them slide in their seats. Changing tactics Hanzo scratched behind her ears and glared at McCree through the rearview mirror.

“As your guardian demon tasked with  _ keeping you alive _ , I think you should-”

“Aha! Got ‘im,” he interrupted. McCree stuck a cigar in his mouth and rolled down his window before lighting it. “Sorry fellas, I just like t’ smoke when I’m on a good chase. Speaking of which, got ‘em in sight. Hold on to yer horses, ladies and gents!”

He slammed on the gas, rocketing the trio forward and past their frightened fellow drivers. They came up to an old orange truck, the open back occupied by… well, not quite a person so much as a wall of flesh and dirt and weapons. Inside the cab was an equally, if not more, dirt-covered man cackling and shaking the aging driver, who was desperately trying to keep a steady grip on the steering wheel. The backseat passenger looked over at the cop car, his pig-face gas mask betraying nothing, then reached forward with his large hand and tapped at the maniac’s shoulder. McCree and Hanzo couldn’t hear anything but the smaller hijacker let go of the driver and leaned out his window, squinting at them.

“Oi! You bugger off now, ya hear?” he shouted. “Else I’m gonna hafta blow you up!”

McCree grinned, shifting his cigar to one side of his mouth. “Ain’t gonna happen, compadre!” he shouted back. He looked back at Hanzo through the mirror. “Keep hold of Mia, would ya?”

“Why?” Hanzo asked suspiciously. His question was answered by their vehicle suddenly slamming into the side of the truck, pushing them towards the side of the highway. “McCree you crazy fool!”

He was drowned out by McCree’s excited laughing and hollering. The truck tried straightening itself and was knocked back again, this time McCree keeping them pressed against the other vehicle.

“Pull over,” he called out to the driver.

The smaller junker grabbed him by the collar. “Don’t you dare!”

Meanwhile the man with the unsettling mask pulled a rather large and shoddy-looking gun from his back. He aimed it at the front of the cop car and fire, sending bits of scrap metal into the hood.

“Ha ha, whoops,” McCree said. “Let’s try this again.”

He pulled the car back some, retrieved Peacekeeper from under his arm with deft fingers, then slammed them into the tail end of the truck. The vehicle started spinning and knocked into another car before careening into the partition and skidding to a halt with a crunch of metal on metal.

A string of colorful curses left the smaller junker as he crawled out of the open window. His foot caught and he fell, one peg leg and one regular foot falling against the door. The pig man hopped down surprisingly easily from his spot in the bed of the truck and lifted the smaller one by the spiked tire strapped to his back.

McCree slammed on the brakes and screeched to a stop not far from the outlaws. He stepped out of the car and took a drag of his cigar, brandishing his pistol in one hand. Slowly he sauntered closer to the soot-covered pair. “Listen. We got maybe two minutes ’fore the real cops catch up. So why don’t y’all just come here nice and quiet and we all avoid the fuzz?”

“Roadie! Lemme down!” the shorter screeched as he swatted at the hand holding him up until he was left to stand on his own. “Look, mate, we ain’t stupid! That’s a load of croc! We go with ya an’ next thing ya know we’re in a divvy van headed for life in bars!”

McCree shook his head. “Ain’t so. I just gotta turn you boys in for bounty an’ once I get my money, you can amputate your timber fer all I care.”

The noisy junker bristled. “A bounty hunter, ay? Well you can rack off! We ain’t budgin’!”

Hanzo was having trouble keeping up with the conversation. Were all English speakers like this or did he just draw in the ones who wanted to put as many idioms and slang terms into conversation as they could?

In the distance the sound of sirens was growing steadily closer. McCree tipped his head in the direction of the noise. “Tick tock, boys.”

The small one glanced up at his larger partner, who said absolutely nothing, and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, Roadie! We don’t need this drongo!”

At that they raised their weapons- though it might’ve been more accurate to call them heaps of scrap held together by duct tape and a prayer. McCree cursed under his breath and leveled his gun at them. Just as the small rat pulled his trigger a squad of cars blared into view.

“Drop your weapons!” A tinny voice shouted over the sirens. Too late the projectile soared over the bounty hunter’s head and landed in the middle of the road. It bounced once before exploding, causing the pursuing cars to turn sharply in an attempt to avoid it.

McCree cursed and looked between his bounty and the cops. The pair were making their retreat, taking full advantage of the distraction. He aimed Peacekeeper at them before he heard the telltale clack of doors opening.

“Put the gun down and step away from the vehicle!”

“Just not catchin’ a break here, am I?” McCree muttered grimly. “Fine, we’ll play this game.”

He turned to the ring of officers, smile plastered on his face and both hands in the air. There were three cars and five guns pointed at him; the middle car looked a little beat up from proximity to the miniature grenade that had been launched and the driver was busy shouting into a radio. More were coming but he could deal with these chumps long enough that it wouldn’t matter.

“Now, now, officers. You don’t wanna shoot me. Let’s handle this peaceful-like, yeah?”

His heartbeat in his ears, Hanzo gripped Mia’s scruff, his fingers digging into her plush fur as she panted. What in the world was the cowboy thinking?

“Drop the gun, NOW!”

“But why would I do that-” Hanzo felt a tingle along the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end. There was no way- McCree had no idea how to draw on his power. “-when it’s High Noon?”

Quick as a flash McCree had his gun pointed at the officers, trigger finger itching and his metal hand coming down to fan the hammer. It was like a storm had formed in the air around him and shot through his arm. His vision grayed but his targets were clear as day. He took his first shot, already in the motion before he could stop to wonder what was happening.

There was no sound. Or there might have been and Jesse just couldn’t hear it, suddenly deaf. A red streak connected the end of his gun to the head of the first victim and like a ragdoll their body dropped. One by one he moved down the line, taking out the five enemies. Each time a quick line, akin to a streak of lightning, would emit from his gun. He wasn’t sure if it was the lightning that was killing them or his bullets, but once they were eliminated his vision faded back to normal and the tink of a single casing falling to the asphalt seemed to be the only thing he was capable of hearing.

The lone driver was frozen, mouth still open from a half-barked order. But McCree wasn’t paying attention to him. His vision was wobbling a little and he suddenly felt  _ exhausted _ . His arm had about as much feeling left as his metal one and it dropped limply to his side. If only by merit of his fingers still curled into shooting position, Peacekeeper was miraculously still dangling in his hand.

With shaky knees Jesse slowly forced himself to back up and turn to his stolen car. His actions were robotic as he stepped into the driver’s side and put the car into drive. He managed to get the car going and shoot off down the road before he fumbled around for the automatic switch, not trusting himself to keep a steady pressure on the gas. One hand gripping loosely on the steering wheel, he rubbed the other down his face. Shit. Somewhere along the line he’d lost his cigar.

McCree took a breath and looked into the rearview mirror. “Hey Hanzo?”

He paused when there was no response and turned, glancing behind his shoulder into the back seat. Mia stared back, offering a short bark. There was no one else with her. Double shit.


	12. Refinement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still kinda slow at working on the chapters, thus the longer pauses between updates. Gosh dang writer's block is really starting to put a dent in completing this fic, but I shall persevere!

The bounty was nowhere to be seen. Either they had taken another vehicle hostage or they booked it off road and managed to hide somewhere because McCree didn’t see them and the radio chatter had shifted to his stolen car and the dead officers. He eventually shook his tail long enough to dump said car in a three story garage. He cracked open the windows for the shepherd who pawed at the door when he left. Jesse gave Mia a few reassuring pets and promised that when the cops found her they’d take better care of her than he could.

“‘Sides,” he said a little grimly, scratching her chin through the window, “I already killed a bunch of ‘em fer just doin’ their job. I ain’t about t’ steal their dog, too.”

Mia whined but didn’t make more than a peep as he headed to the stairs. He was just exiting the garage when sirens blared past him. He grimaced and took a sharp turn down a side street, hoping they hadn’t recognized him. Eventually the road led out to a series of unmarked buildings and very few people so he decided to slow down, look as inconspicuous as possible. His vision was feeling better but he was still tired.

“Hey, Hanzo. You there?” McCree murmured. There was no answer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visualizing himself reaching out into… something. He wasn’t sure what, but it was cool and spacious and was situated at the back of his head. He tried again. “Hanzo?”

This time he felt a push back. He opened his eyes to see faint wisps of smoke leaking from his tattooed arm. The cowboy paused in his walk to allow the translucent material to fall to the ground and slowly, ever so slowly, rise and condense into a familiar form. He smiled down at the demon whose brow was pinched and eyes were squeezed shut.

“Howdy. You look like shit.”

Hanzo looked up at him, pained expression twisting his face. His horns were out as well as his teeth. “Please tell me you called me for something important.”

“Sorta, yeah.” McCree scratched the back of his neck and sighed, slowly starting to walk again. “What was that, earlier? That some of yer powers? I ain’t never seen anything like it.”

Hanzo floated alongside him, not bothering to go through the motions of walking. “Yes. It was… probably the strongest pull of my powers you could use me for.”

McCree winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought you said the flow was a one way street?”

Hanzo sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, technically. You just drew on more than I was prepared to give you at the moment. I didn’t expect you to actually call upon me in battle.”

Confused, McCree cocked his head. He was about to ask when Hanzo ran a hand down his face. “I was the moment that time seemed to slow and your prey were like beacons. I was the movement of your hand, aiming your gun, and the pull of the trigger. I was the lightning that pushed the bullet through their skulls. All of that was me because, knowingly or not, you summoned me to be your weapon.”

There was a small silence before McCree whistled. “All of that? That was damn impressive,” he said quietly. Then: “Sorry I forced you to do somethin’ like that, though, darlin’.”

Hanzo studied him for a moment. The cowboy seemed sincere, which drew a small smile from him. “Think nothing of it. That is part of my duty as your bonded spirit. I am your tool as much as your guardian.”

With a sharp shake of his head Jesse stopped walking, stomping his foot. “Uh uh. None of that. You’re a person, not a tool.”

“The sentiment is appreciated but-”

“No buts! I don’t care if you’re a demon or a spirit or whatever. You’re a goddamn person with thoughts an’ feelin’s, and ain’t me, or Genji, or you, or anybody else that can make that untrue.” The cowboy huffed, running a slightly shaky hand through his hair. The gel ended up clumping it together oddly and a few chunks fell out of line, messing up the slicked back look. “I know what it’s like to not have an identity beyond what people tell ya what you are. What it’s like to feel like a gun that other people can just point and shoot. Now I don’t know what you been through, but I’m telling you here an’ now that you ain’t just a weapon.”

The demon could only hum, not sure how to respond the the assertion. He’d been groomed his entire life to be an instrument of the Shimada clan, the edge on their blade, the civil public front and secret puppeteer to their illicit activities - all while the council of elders determined every move he was to make. He was supposed to lead with an iron fist while being the picture of noble and powerful. Then all of a sudden he was the failed protégé, the ill fitting, broken tool that had to be disposed of. One little speech by some emotional cowboy wasn’t going to undo years of telling himself he was a disappointment to his family and was could never bring back the honor he had lost but… it was a nice small step away from all of that. A brief reprieve from the wall of self hatred he’d been encasing himself in his whole life and the quiet wish that those walls would fall and crush him.

Anything he could say seemed pointless in the face of Jesse’s honest expression. Luckily Hanzo didn’t need to come up with a reply. They went back to walking in silence for awhile, both lost deep in thought. McCree ended up interrupting their stroll with a large yawn, arms stretching above his head.

“Getting tired, gunslinger?”

“Not a chance,” McCree groaned out around his yawn. He scratched his beard, eyes on the sidewalk in front of him. He only had a vague idea of where to go since running away from the cops. “Actually, I’m tired as hell. Somethin’ about using that- that power. Somethin’ about it just took all the energy plum outta me.”

Hanzo nodded and brought a hand up to one of his horns. “The same goes for me. It was an unexpected drain, as I said before. Since you’re not used to using my power it must have been hard on you, as well.”

Levelling his gaze at the demon over his sunglasses, McCree’s lips pulled into a thin line. “You’re usin’ up a bunch of energy just to be here, ain’t ya? Be honest.”

“Well… yes,” Hanzo slowly admitted.

“Thought so.” McCree nodded sagely and held out his arm. “Then back in you go. You deserve the rest.”

Hanzo hesitated, eyeing his arm before looking back up at the cowboy. “You should get some rest as well. It would do neither of us any good to have you passing out in the middle of nowhere.”

Jesse chuckled. “Fine, deal.”

The demon offered a smile in return before melting away into smoke.

\--

Hanzo appeared again in the middle of McCree speaking with the front desk attendant of the hotel. He looked down to see McCree’s duffel sitting on the floor next to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked once McCree had nodded a goodbye to the clerk.

“We’re movin’ hotels, sweetheart,” McCree said quietly but cheerily.

Hanzo scrunched his brow. “What is wrong with this one? Other than the ugly carpet and horrendous blankets.”

The cowboy chuckled as he slung his duffel over his shoulder and headed out the front door. He waved a hand at the taxi driver waiting patiently out front- thankfully a different one than the omnic with a need for speed who had picked them up from the airport.

“Can never be too careful, darlin’. Especially now that the Man wants me for borrowin’ their car.”

“What man?” Hanzo asked, drifting through the cab to sit beside McCree and his duffel in the back. McCree carefully laid his bag on his lap, one protective arm slung over it. His other came up to fiddle with his ear, putting in the defunct headset.

“You know, the ‘Man’- the fuzz? The pigs? The 5-0? The law?”

Eventually Hanzo recognized one of the slang terms and nodded. He was still convinced Jesse made up half of the words he used- he had yet to meet another American that talked as ridiculously as he did. He just let McCree prattle on in euphemisms and idioms about how it was unfair because the only thing they were down was some gas and a couple of officers during their drive to the new hotel. Or, well, motel would probably be more appropriate. It was a definite downgrade.

As the two stepped out, McCree thanking the driver and paying for the ride, Hanzo glared at the establishment in growing disgust.

“Are you seriously moving us _here_?”

“What, not good enough for ya darlin’?” McCree asked and gave a light laugh.

Hanzo sneered. “It doesn’t look good enough for a dead fish let alone humans.”

“But Han, it’s right by the bay. What’d you expect?”

“Exactly.” Hanzo huffed and crossed his arms, passing the cowboy on his way into the motel. “They better have good blankets this time.”

“Ain’t like you’re gonna be sleeping in ‘em,” McCree pointed out. Then he waggled his eyebrows. “Unless you plan on doin’ something _else_ in the bed?”

With a wave of his hand Hanzo dismissed the tease. “I may not have to sleep but I do have taste, and honestly the last blankets were a health hazard.”

McCree laughed and bumped into Hanzo playfully as they walked to their room. “Well boy howdy, I didn’t realize that you were so concerned. Wanna test out the new blankets then?”

Hanzo frowned and furrowed his brows. He decided it was better not to give the cowboy ammo and instead try a different tactic. They approached the door with the matching numbers to the keychain dangling off of their old fashioned room key. Hanzo brought up his hand, floating the duffel bag and pulling it out of McCree’s grip. With the other hand he took the key from calloused fingers and unlocked the door.

Surprised, McCree turned and smiled. “Well thank ya kindl-” He was cut off by the demon walking in the room, bag close behind him, and the door slamming shut in his face. There was a small click and he knew he was locked out.

“Aw, come on, Nightlight!”

Hanzo ignored the pounding in favor of appraising the room. It was smaller than their previous room, of course, and there was a faded curtain drawn over the window. He flicked on the bedside lamp which cast a yellow glow over the mottled brown and red carpet, worn from use. The walls were perhaps once a bright color but now they were the same dusty orange as the dessert, decorated with bland pictures of the ocean and sunsets. The only saving grace was the bed, which took up most of the room and had a warm-looking knit blanket of red and gold stripes carefully tucked over it.

Satisfied that there were no immediate health concerns, Hanzo flipped his palm and deposited the duffel on the bed. He took a glance at the door, McCree’s knocks dying down to whining. Good. Served him right.

“Darlin’, please let me in? I ain’t gonna talk about you in bed no more. Well, I mean,how would that even work if yer not solid all the time-”

He wasn’t being let in any time soon, Hanzo decided. As further retribution he decided to pick up where he left off last time he was alone in the room: learning whatever the heck McCree was so protective of in that damn bag of his. With steady hands Hanzo swiftly unzipped the bottommost pocket, the one he hadn’t managed to catch a peek of before McCree stopped him.

The bag opened with little trouble, though the top clunked as it hit the bed. The large bottom pocket was full of… a black cloth bag? With a curious head tilt Hanzo unzipped the bag and opened it wide.

His eyes threatened to bulge out of his head at what he saw. No way. McCree was super protective of _this_? The demon plucked one of the offending objects up and turned it around. Honestly it was an assault on the eyes. The boxers he held in front of him were a soft cotton and in good condition, but the problem was that they were black with stylized roosters and chicks covering them in a bright pattern of greens, blues, reds, oranges, and pinks. It was such a busy design and the contrast hurt his eyes.

He placed it next to him on the bed and pulled out another pair of boxers- these ones beige with the same three raccoon faces printed over and over again. Another pair had a bright red and white bandana pattern. Confusion building he pawed through the bag only to confirm that the entire thing was full of these odd underwear. Each one that he pulled out had their own colorful, crazy design. Then something at the bottom of the bag caught his eye and he slipped it out from under the diminishing pile.

Hanzo held up the boxers at arm’s length, a mix of horror and disbelief on his face as he stared at buff, half naked men wearing blue jeans and cowboy hats, posing next to red trucks and cacti. One of the practically glistening men was wearing chaps and was that- a lasso?

He was numb to the door opening and the sound of McCree thanking the clerk from the front desk, and he didn’t notice the man step into the room until a part-shout part-strangled gasp left the man’s throat. Hanzo didn’t dare look away from the cowboys on display in the form of undergarments before him.

“Would ya- I mean I can- how’d ya- Shoot!” McCree stumbled over his words, not sure whether to try and defend himself or just give up and melt into a puddle on the floor. He settled for shutting the door and walking stiffly into the room.

Hanzo licked his lips, mouth having gone dry at the revelation he’d witnessed. “Where did you get these?”

McCree shuffled in place, hand dragging his hat low over his eyes. “I… collect ‘em.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I think they’re neat, an’ I like the designs.” He let out a noise of discomfort, half-heartedly hoping they might never speak of this again.

Hanzo finally tore his eyes away from the boxers to look at the actual cowboy in the room. “ _Why_?”

McCree furrowed his brow and stomped over, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. He snatched the pair from Hanzo’s grip and threw it back in the duffel. “‘Cause I do, okay? This is why I don’t like tellin’ nobody. Ain’t no one appreciate it.”

Jesse could feel his face heating up more and more with each unique design he tossed back into his bag. Pinups and cars and animals stared back at him and his movements became frantic as he shoved them in until Hanzo’s hand over his arm stopped him. He turned to see the demon’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his other hand covering his mouth, his shoulders shaking. At first he thought he might be crying but then Hanzo snorted and the dam broke loose and he laughed, loud and genuine. Every so often a snort escaped and Hanzo tried to press his hand harder against his mouth but nonetheless they came. Jesse had never heard Hanzo laugh like that and it blew the air right out of his lungs.

“My- my apologies. I don’t mean to laugh,” he gasped, calming down some. Hanzo brought a hand up to run over his hair, careful not to tug any from his ponytail in a small effort to reign himself in. McCree found himself watching in awe.

“I’ve never seen you this embarrassed. It is…” cute, he didn’t say. “Anyway. You don’t have to feel bad about your collection. I was just curious about it, is all. It’s interesting to know about you.”

God damn, Jesse could’ve kissed him right then and there.

But he didn’t. Instead he gave a small, sincere smile and slumped down on the bed next to his duffel. “Thanks. Ain’t often I get someone not callin’ me weird or whatever for it.”

Hanzo hummed in thought as he sat down on the other side of the bag. “It is… unusual, for sure. But it’s not the most outlandish hobby one could have.”

“Oh yeah?” Jesse laughed and leaned back, hands propping himself up. “Try givin’ a pair of boxers to each of your commanding officers as a thank you present, then tell me it’s not weird.”

Hanzo snorted. “Did you give one to Reyes, then?” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand with an amused smirk on his face.

“You betcha. Gave ‘im one with a buncha sugar skulls. Thought he’d appreciate it.” McCree paused to scratch his beard. “He kinda laughed until he cried. Might’ve also been ‘cause of what I gave his boyfriend.”

Hanzo raised a brow. “Oh?”

McCree nodded. “Yeah, Jack’s a bit of a boy scout, so I thought I’d give him ones with guys in speedos an’ the American flag everywhere.”

The demon laughed again and McCree was starting to love the sound. If it took his underwear collection to bring out the smiles then he’d show it to him any time he wanted, innuendo-free.

“Shoulda seen Miss Amari’s face when I gave her a pair, too.”

Hanzo buried his smile in his hands. “Tell me you didn’t.”

Jesse grinned. “Got all sorts of offended that I gave her boxers with a bunch of old witches knitting on ‘em.”

They shared a laugh. McCree eventually gave up on holding himself up and let himself drop onto the bed. Hanzo seemed to consider it for a moment before flopping backwards as well. They laid there in silence for a moment before Jesse spoke up.

“Don’t suppose you’d be against me gettin’ you a pair?”

Hanzo turned his head to him and gestured at his body. “Did you forget the part where it takes a lot of concentration for me to become solid? I can’t exactly wear them all the time.”

“Y’ain’t gotta wear ‘em,” McCree said, shaking his head and smiling. “It’s the thought of the gift that counts. I’d betcha my left arm Ana and Gabe don’t wear theirs. Jack might though.”

Hanzo snorted. “You already lost your left arm, genius. And, technically, I already claimed your other one.”

Though he knew the demon was only talking about the tattoo, Jesse couldn’t help but flush a little. It was awful, honestly. He hadn’t been this hung up on a person in a long time, and the fresh butterflies and easy flustering were a welcome change to the fake flirting and crude jokes that he’d grown used to.

“So,” Hanzo said and cleared his throat, interrupting his thoughts. He stared at the ceiling, white eyes not betraying anything. “What is your next step for the bounty?”

McCree sighed and rested his hands on his chest. His heart thumped under his fingers and he willed it to quiet down. “Well, normally I’d be lookin’ at traffic cams an’ new reports, but I don’t feel like it right now. ‘Sides, I have a pretty good idea where they’re headed.”

“How so?”

“There ain’t too many places fellas like that can hide out without bein’ noticed,” McCree said. He opted not to mention where he thought they might go, but all the more to surprise Hanzo with.


	13. Leisure

It was as if a hurricane of trash, coolers, and sunscreen had hit and the only survivors were having a miserable time. Like Hanzo. Hanzo was having a miserable time.

When they approached the beach he had been moderately surprised and curious as to what they were doing back there. But his questions were quickly answered when they stepped onto the sand and he saw that this wasn't the same bright, cheery beach they had visited before. This one was packed with people all clamoring for a spot to tan or water to ease the heat of the blazing sun. Barely a stretch of ground was left untouched by blankets or sweaty bodies. Several radios and speakers projected a myriad of music and parents shouted at screaming, giggling children over the noise. A few small shops were set up, dispensing ice cream and hot foods. A pier cut across the chaos and jutted out into the water. The people walking along it barely seemed to care if their wrappers and leftovers made it into trash bins.

Hanzo was considering going back to the tattoo before McCree gestured towards a free space down by the water, all smiles and a glint in his eye. They maneuvered around the masses- or, more accurately, McCree did. Hanzo was suddenly very grateful for the ability to float and very much not above rubbing it in the cowboy’s face that it didn't seem to be one of the powers he got from the demon.

“I still do not understand how those two would blend in out here.”

“Nah, I didn’t say they’re blendin’ in,” McCree said with a shake of his head. “See this here beach is in the way that I think they’re headed, an’ considering how many stands there are I betcha they’re gonna make a food grab eventually.”

The two paused as McCree plopped his drawstring backpack next to an empty deckchair and attached umbrella. There seemed to be a few of similar color around the beach, which either meant it was provided by some company or it was a popular purchase that got left by some wayward beach goer. Either way no one was around to prove ownership and McCree was eager to claim it.

“What makes you think they changed course?” Hanzo asked as McCree took off his sunglasses and hat.

“‘Cause they know a bounty hunter’s after ‘em now,” he answered. He pulled off his shirt and balled it up before kneeling down and shoving it in the bag. McCree dug around a bit then pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. “They don’t seem like boatin’ folk, so they’ll wanna head inland. Lot more spaces to run, plus they’re Junkers so they ain’t gonna give a crap if they end up in the wastelands.”

“You’re smarter than you seem, McCree” Hanzo conceded, walking around the cowboy and settling into the shaded seat. Mostly it was so he’d stop looking at the way Jesse’s back curved as he was bent over.

McCree chuckled. “Been doin’ this a long time, darlin’. Ya tend to pick up some stuff along the way.” He held out the bottle and gave it a little shake. “Wanna help me put some on?”

Hanzo crossed his arms. “I take it back.”

“You wound me, Han.”

McCree poured the white lotion onto his hand and began rubbing it on his neck, moving down in circles to his chest and shoulders. He paused at the scar on his right pec- the reminder that he shouldn’t be alive right now. His gaze wandered off as he continued to put on the sunscreen and he thought to how drastically things had changed, all because of his stupid mistake. The memory had slowly come back to him over his time in the hospital, though everything after the explosion was for the most part a blur.

He and Genji had cased the warehouse where their target was meant to be hours ahead of schedule and staked it out until the designated meeting time. The usual workers went in and out, occasionally bringing in a stack of boxes or taking some out on trolleys. Their contents weren’t important- the illegal shipment of stolen weapons was already sitting nice and tidy in a large crate in a corner of the warehouse, accessible only to those with a forklift or highly stealthy skills and a sharp sword. Naturally the pair of bounty hunters weren’t overly worried.

The black car with tinted windows had stopped in front of the warehouse right on time, the night giving cover while a few shadowed figures exited the armored vehicle and made their way inside. Not far behind McCree and Genji had crept up to the open door of the warehouse. That should’ve been their first tip off. The next was seeing the figures inside move right past the shelves and crates before stopping at the back door to talk.

McCree had levelled his gun, already plotting out where he would need to aim to take them all out from his partially obstructed view. He moved a further into the warehouse in the hopes of getting a better vantage point. Genji had followed but put a hand on his back, whispering about something being amiss. McCree didn’t listen until he saw one of the figures turn his head as if looking out the door. The guy had a mohawk and his arms bulged under his suit jacket, but he was dressed slightly different from the others. It was their target, out in the open and smugly locking eyes with the cowboy. He gave a smile and wave, showing off the device in his grasp. McCree shot, knocking whatever it was out of that bastard’s hand before Genji was pulling him backwards and out of the warehouse. The men inside were shouting and bolting out the exit while McCree barely had time to register his partner swinging them around the side of the armored car when the bomb went off.

“Do you plan on going swimming or are you just going to imagine yourself into the water?”

Hanzo’s voice brought Jesse back to reality. 

“Uh, no... no.” He realized his front was only half done and his back wasn’t touched at all, but nonetheless he put away the sunscreen. Hanzo raised an eyebrow.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern creeping into his tone.

McCree flashed him his usual smile and shook his head. “I’m good. Just thinkin’ bout stuff.”

Hanzo didn’t press, something McCree was thankful for. Instead he looked over the man and huffed. “Don’t think too hard, you might fry what little brain isn’t devoted to country music.”

“Hey now, I ain’t attackin’ your interests,” McCree chuckled. He hooked his thumbs in his pants and paused. “Not that I know what those are.”

The demon waved his hand in a noncommittal gesture. “You know many things from our time at the market.”

“That don’t count. How am I supposed t’ know what you liked and what you were just doin’ to mess with me?”

“I… guess that is fair.” Hanzo sighed.

“So what are ya interested in?” he asked as he pulled his sweats down. He didn’t mean it to have anything to do with what he said but by the way Hanzo’s cheeks darkened and he quickly glanced away, the demon sure took it that way. That in it’s own right was a bit of an answer which made McCree grin.

“Books,” Hanzo spat out. “Almost any kind of books.”

“Really?” McCree raised an eyebrow in much the same way Hanzo was prone to doing. “So all those comics? D’you like novels and stuff, too?”

Hanzo nodded. “What are you doing, if I may ask?”

“Hm? Oh.” McCree shook his foot free from the last of his pants leg. His flip flop got caught in the process and he stood there, trying to wrestle the red piece of foam and plastic out of his pants. “I’m gonna go swimmin’.”

Hanzo looked pointedly at his boxers, white with red cacti on them. The were the same ones he’d first seen McCree in he noted. “Aren’t those from your precious collection, though?”

Wrestling the footwear free Jesse shrugged. “I didn’t bring any swim trunks. ‘Sides, what’s the point of owning a buncha clothes if you don’t wear ‘em?”

Hanzo could understand. As the heir to a rich family he used to have dozens, maybe hundreds of clothes that would be worn maybe once or twice and then tucked into the back of his closet, never to be seen again. “Are you sure you trust the water here? This doesn’t seem like the cleanest of beaches.”

McCree waved the flip flop at him, gesturing to his whole body. “Relax. Why don’t you get in the beach mood? I’m sure you can find  _ somethin’ _ to enjoy about this place.”

The demon leaned back, crossed his legs, and huffed. “Fine.”

His form faded a little, the dark smoke Jesse had seen him turn into enveloping him. However it was more similar to when Hanzo had summoned his bow, swirling in tight curls around him before condensing and disappearing. In its wake was still Hanzo but his clothes and gear were gone, replaced with white and red shorts similar in design to his kimono. On his face sat a pair of sunglasses with white cat eyed frames.

McCree whistled at the sight. “That’s a neat trick.”

“I suppose.” Hanzo reclined further, sliding down into the chair while he watched McCree slip his other flip flop off. Sometimes he wished he could do the same to the rest of his form, make himself look human. He’d thought about it in those quiet morning moments before McCree woke up, watching the man lounge as flesh and blood, the way he wished he could be. But the demon could not have it. In some ways it was better, he thought, to look like the monster he was instead of a lie.

McCree replaced his sunglasses back on his nose and stood proudly. He breathed the salt-soaked air deeply and nodded at the water. “You comin’ for a dip, too?”

Hanzo peered at him over his glasses. “I think I will be staying right here, thank you.”

“Aw, pretty please?” McCree asked with an exaggerated pout. “We could have fun splashin’ each other and playing gay chicken.”

“I will definitely pass on that.” The demon pushed his glasses back up and began inspecting his claws, fangs poking out between his lips. 

McCree deflated. “How come?”

“I refuse to be seen with you.”

“You’re invisible,” he deadpanned.

“And you’re an embarrassment,” Hanzo retorted.

“Spoilsport.” Jesse stuck his tongue out which only proved the point. Before Hanzo could tease him any further the cowboy strode down to the water’s edge and took a running leap into the waves.

The cowboy disappeared beneath the water and it was perhaps a little longer that normal for him to thrash his way back to the surface. He took a huge gasp before he bobbed back under and he had to force himself up again. Hanzo watched on with a bit of concern; surely McCree knew how to swim? He wouldn’t be that stupid, would he?

“What are you doing?” he asked, and watched as McCree started paddling further out. The swimmer paused and started to sink again, but he pushed himself further above the water level in order to respond.

“Ah, uh, nothin. Jus’ forgot-” he sunk and thrust himself upwards again- “forgot about my arm bein’ way less-” another bob- “floatin’ friendly now.”

“Seriously, McCree?” Hanzo sighed, rubbing his temple with the pads of his fingers. “Just… don’t drown, alright? It would be inconvenient to get up to rescue you.”

“Just fer that I might be tempted t’ inconvenience you.” McCree laughed and it was cut off by the salty water splashing in his face. He coughed and sputtered.

“What did I  _ just _ say?”

Despite his quips McCree was true to his word and managed not to drown. He stopped responding to Hanzo due to the hassle of staying afloat when one side of him was much heavier than what he was used to. Swimming was also something he had to adjust, but he was a quick study. Hanzo, for his part, stayed relatively quiet- if complaining about every beach bum that crossed his path and stating with a deadpan tone that a shark was nearby and throwing Jesse into a small panic was quiet.

“McCree, you should get back here,” Hanzo said after a while.

Having moved to a shallower area, McCree treaded water and glared. “I ain’t fallin’ for it again, darlin’.”

“It’s not about the shark- which was definitely there, by the way,” Hanzo huffed, tapping his claws on the chair. “We have two problems: one, someone is looking to take my spot.”

McCree chuckled. “So?”

“So I made them trip and drop their stuff, but I don’t think that’s deterring them.”

“Dammit Hanzo-”

“The second thing is that your targets have shown up.”

The swears that left the cowboy were more colorful as he tripped and half-swam, half-walked back to shore. “Where?”

“Up on the pier,” Hanzo hummed disinterestedly. “Trying to haggle at one of the stalls. More importantly, what are you going to do about this… tourist? They’ve managed to pick everything up and it looks like they have friends now.”

McCree rolled his eyes. “Is it really that important right now, sugar?”

Hanzo contemplated the situation and sighed dramatically. “It is, but you’re going to follow the targets and force me to move, aren’t you?”

“You got it,” he said with a wink as he approached the demon.

“I was rather enjoying myself.” Hanzo pouted. “Those tourists look like massive tools, by the way. They are going to ruin this spot.”

McCree slipped his flip flops back on and shoved his sunglasses onto his nose before taking a glance at these so-called tourists. There was a gaggle of people slightly overdressed for a day at the beach, all of them with the same pair of sunglasses and serious expressions on their face. They were in a cluster talking to each other and gesturing at their blue cooler. The cowboy shook his head in disapproval, wet hair flinging drops of water everywhere.

“You’re right, but we got bigger things t’ do, so you’re gonna hafta kiss your spot goodbye darlin’. Sorry.”

With a sigh Hanzo gracefully stood up and stretched. Jesse paused in his retrieval of a towel to watch the way the demon’s shoulders moved as he raised his arms above his head and arched his back. When Hanzo turned back McCree shot him a pleased smirk. Hanzo cross his arms and quirked an eyebrow. Before he could comment on catching the cowboy, McCree swiftly pulled his backpack closed and stood up.

“Let’s get goin’, shall we?” Jesse gripped his pack in one hand and moved to fling his gaudy towel over his shoulder.

“Uh, McCree-”

Too late, the fabric whipped him on the back and the cowboy yelped, flinching his whole body in an instinctive attempt to get away from the pain.

“-you have sunburn,” Hanzo finished. He smiled, small and pitying. “This is what you get for not putting on more sunscreen.”

Gingerly McCree removed his towel, trying to make sure it didn’t touch any more skin than necessary as it slid off his shoulder. He twisted around and peeked at the sweltering red along his back. “Darn it. This is gonna make shit ten times harder. God damn, I’m an idiot.”

“We finally agree,” Hanzo chuckled.

McCree worked on drying his hair while mentally cursing himself, stalking towards the pier. He glared up at it and scanned the crowd. The two junkers weren’t exactly hard to miss, being the only two shirtless people covered in soot and raising a ruckus. Hopefully they would stay there a little longer. “This sucks. But we still got a bounty t’ catch, so we better high-tail it before those two bomb-lovin’ idiots do any serious damage.”

The demon hummed in agreement as the toasted cowboy led the way. Hanzo got a good look at his back. It was a bright, angry red that extended out to his arms and up the back of his neck. Places on his front were probably just as well off, considering Jesse had only managed to cover the front of his torso. It was gonna be nasty as it healed and he probably wouldn’t be able to lie down for a while. Hanzo debated the pros and cons of the situation for a moment.

“Hold on a moment, McCree.”

“Hm? What-” McCree stopped when he felt a hand on the darkened skin.

McCree, to his credit, didn’t jump, but he did whip his head around. He met the demon’s glare with a loud sigh of relief at the cool touch. “Mmm, that feels nice,” he hummed.

Between the words and the way they rumbled out of his throat, Hanzo would have trouble admitting that he didn’t like it. “I’m just healing you. It seems like it would be a problem in a fight, and I don't want you making any stupid life-threatening mistakes.”

“Sure, sure,” McCree absently said. Another sigh of contentment escaped him as the heat eased away, the healing working quickly to alleviate all of his burned skin. When there was no longer any pain Jesse turned around and smiled, his eyes kind. “Thank ya, darlin’.”

Hanzo quickly crossed his arms and nodded. He was about to brush off the favor but McCree’s wide eyes and suddenly tense posture gave him pause. “What is it?”

Jesse worked his jaw before answering. “Well I’ll be a fuckin’ rat’s bald ass. We’re gonna have to let those Junkers go.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“Because,” he nodded behind the demon, “those ain't no tourists. A bigger bounty just waltzed his paranoid ass all over our spot.”

Hanzo spun around and searched the bland group they had seen before. They were setting up around the beach chair but none of them were relaxing. Instead the only person who seemed to be remotely enjoying themselves was a heavily muscled man with a small black mohawk and narrow, angry eyebrows furrowed over his sunglasses. Though he towered above his bodyguards he was mostly hidden behind them as he eased slowly into the chair and gestured silently at the members of his entourage.

“I’m gonna kill ‘im,” McCree said sharply. The sudden coldness of the statement surprised the demon, who until then hadn’t heard such icy malice from the generally good natured cowboy. McCree wasn't looking at him, though, his darkening gaze locked on the man sitting down. “Only fair. He’s the one that killed me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I'm really kicking my own butt by uploading this because the next chapter is STILL a WIP. But I really, really wanted to share the [drawings](http://sugarmonkey.tumblr.com/post/166979947164/do-yall-know-how-long-i-waited-to-post-this) I did way back before this chapter was even a thought in my mind and honestly shaped the entirety of chapter 13 just so it would happen.


	14. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I'm going to be finishing my other fic Coffee Moon before continuing with this one, since that one is shorter, easier to write, and a gift. XD Don't worry, Coffee Moon as just two more chapters to go and will be a double upload sometime around Christmas! Also, this is kind of a sandwich chapter? But some important things had to be said before we get back into action.

“You can’t shoot him right now,” Hanzo stated before looking at the bounty hunter. McCree was digging through the bag, glare barely leaving the mob boss who was basking in the shade of his wall of bodyguards. Hanzo put a hand on his shoulder. “McCree, you are on a beach full of people. That isn’t exactly discreet. Besides his bodyguards will probably kill you before you manage to do anything else. Are you listening to me?”

Jesse finally fished out his cellphone and spared an angry glance at Hanzo. “Don’t worry, I ain’t that stupid. I wasn’t plannin’ on killin’ him right now.”

The demon had his doubts, but he dropped his hand anyway. McCree unlocked the phone and, after tapping a few things, shut it off again. He white knuckled the device as he started walking towards the pier once more, muttering curses under his breath.

“What are you planning on, then?” Hanzo asked. He had to quicken his pace to keep shoulder to shoulder with the cowboy. He didn’t receive an answer, only more cursing as Jesse practically stomped up the wooden steps.

McCree purchased a charger at one of the stands on the pier and wandered around until he found a plug by a stall. He quickly plugged the phone in and impatiently dug through his bag for something else. After a moment Jesse growled in anger, sat down, and started pulling things out and placing them on the ground.

“McCree,” Hanzo tried.

McCree had a pile of various beach things around his lap as he dug into the very bottom of the bag. He produced three small black disks the size of coins and threw the bag harshly onto the ground.

“McCree, talk to me.”

He grabbed his phone and turned it on again, lip turned up in a sneer at the battery percentage, before trying to unlock it with his metal thumb and cursing when he realized it wasn’t going to work.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said evenly and crouched down to place a hand on his shoulder. McCree glared up at him with such intensity Hanzo lost his words for a moment.

“You gonna tell me to calm down? Huh? ‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t-”

“No, McCree, I get it,” Hanzo said soothingly.

He laughed and pushed his hand away. “You  _ get it _ ? You try looking at the guy who waved a god damn detonator at ya and set it off just to fuck with you. That bastard cost me my arm! He almost fucking murdered me! I ain’t letting that asshole out of my sight until I put a bullet between his eyes!”

“But you lived! You did not have  _ everything _ taken from you, Jesse! But if you continue being reckless like this than you  _ will _ !” Hanzo snapped. He paused, closing his eyes and took a deep, calming breath before placing both hands on the wide-eyed man’s shoulders. “You need to think rationally. This man should not get away with what he did to you, but he will if you make rash decisions and act on impulse. What is the plan?”

McCree’s face crumpled as he lost some steam. He knew he’d have to talk with Hanzo later about the whole thing, which he wasn’t looking forward to. For now he had an important mission to complete. “I got some trackers on me that I need to sync and plant on ‘em. I was gonna use it on the Junkers in case we lost ‘em again.”

He held up one of the black discs and flipped it between his fingers. With his other hand he took his phone and unlocked it with much less furocity in his tapping this time. “The hard part’s gonna be figuring out how to get it on ‘em. I planned on just throwin’ it onto the bounty when we got close enough, but those two idiots weren’t likely t’ notice. Not like that boss guy. Plus he an’ his goons aren’t wearing much t’ stick them to anyway.”

Hanzo leaned back and hummed. “Seems like you are in need of my services again.”

Shaking his head, McCree sighed. “It’s amazing he didn’t recognize me when we were closer. The guy’s real paranoid, always got at least a half dozen guards at all times. I don’t… wanna get that close. Not yet. Not until I take his life.”

Hanzo grabbed his hand, stopping the coin from winding around his fingers, and plucked it free. He inspected it between his claws and weighed it in his palm. Then he smiled and flipped it back at the cowboy who fumbled and dropped it in his lap.

“I can get it to him from up here.”

McCree raised an eyebrow. “We’re way too far. How do you plan on doin’ that?” he asked as he pushed a small button on two of the trackers.

“Easily,” Hanzo replied cryptically.

“‘Course.” There was a beep on McCree’s phone and he looked down at it, one corner of his mouth curling up in a not-quite smirk. He started shoving things back in his bag and unplugged his phone. “All synced up. Ready to show me this ‘super special method’ that you totally don’t have?”

“With pleasure,” Hanzo purred and held out his hand. McCree smirked at his confidence and relinquished the two discs. The demon walked to the edge of the pier overlooking the beach and Jesse followed suit, leaning one hip against the railing.

With all the flair of a theater phantom Hanzo held out his left arm and materialized his bow, the gray quiver on his back smoking into existence right after. He drew two arrows and stuck a tracker to the metal tip of each.

McCree lowered his sunglasses and his smile grew. “You clever bastard.”

“What did you expect of an archer?” Hanzo let out a light chuckle and knocked the first arrow while keeping the other between his free knuckles. This would take quite a delicate amount of timing and concentration to pull off. He drew a couple of steadying breaths and let go of the drawstring. The arrow sailed across the beach, over the heads of several sunbathers, and towards the blue cooler. With a thought the arrow was unsummoned just a second before impact, leaving the tracker flying on its own before smacking into the side of the cooler where it stuck like a bug on sticky paper.

Good, so he could do it without spearing someone. Hanzo quickly knocked his second arrow and readjusted his aim. The projectile went just as smoothly as the last one, and this time the tracker attached itself to the sandal of one of the guards. No one seemed to notice anything was amiss.

McCree squinted as he leaned over the railing and whistled before laughing. “Damn, darlin’. You never cease to be amazing.”

The bow and arrows turned back to smoke a little too quickly, leaving Hanzo waving the black tendrils out of his face. He cleared his throat once the air was clean. “Thank you.”

Jesse turned to him and elbowed the demon playfully. “Yer gonna end up stealing all my spotlight. C’mon, I gotta get my gear and get outta these,” he said, pulling at the hem of his wet boxers.

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you plan on putting something else  _ on _ afterwards.”

—

To both Hanzo’s delight and disappointment McCree did indeed put clothes on after he dried off. His gray shirt had the top two buttons left undone and the sleeves pushed up, and his brown pants hugged his thighs nicely, which Hanzo appreciated, though McCree also still smelled of the water and his hair was now a tangled mess. The two hurried out of the hotel, McCree with his black duffel bag slung over his shoulder and Hanzo close on his heels.

Jesse was still shaken after seeing the mob boss again. The bastard was sitting there enjoying a vacation while the bounty hunter had spent so long in the hospital, recovering from the loss of his arm and a goddamn hole in his chest from their last encounter. He didn’t even have his partner there with him this time to help him hunt the target.

Although the elder Shimada brother, for all the drawbacks of his form, was definitely proving to be a good partner in his stead… and, dare he say it, he was slowly becoming a good friend, too. Or something. It was hard to describe when they had a metaphysical connection to each other, feeding energy back and forth and, when Hanzo was in the tattoo, emotions in a way Jesse had never felt before. Even when Hanzo had possessed him it was like there were no barriers keeping them from holding back their thoughts and emotions, no way of lying.

He shook off the memory of sharing a brain and checked his phone. The trackers showed that the group was not far from the beach, moving slowly away. Still on foot then, though remembering the last time McCree tracked him he knew they would either go into a building or a car soon, as that was where the boss felt safest. They had some time, then.

“C’mon, Han, let’s go find a car,” he said, nodding his head down the road.

Hanzo cocked his head, eyebrows raising. “You are not thinking of stealing another police car, are you?”

McCree laughed. “No, it’s gonna be legit this time, I promise.”

“Hm.” Hanzo was skeptical but trotted along beside him nonetheless. They briskly made their way down a few blocks and around a couple turns, McCree having to constantly look at his phone to make sure they were headed the right direction, until they came upon a car rental place. With a triumphant smirk and a tilt of his head that said ‘see?’ McCree strolled inside.

After a bit of haggling and a lot of disgusted looks from Hanzo they were in a very small, very eco-friendly vehicle. In the meantime the two small dots on the tracker map had stopped and split up, one staying at a building and the other moving much faster than before down a road. McCree fiddled with getting his cell to stay in the complimentary phone holder with one hand, vaguely keeping an eye on the road.

Hanzo sighed and swatted his hand away, taking the device and snapping it into place. “If you are such a successful bounty hunter why are we in the cheapest piece of junk they had?”

“Uh, well, y’see…” McCree chuckled, looking sheepish. “I kinda went over budget?”

“You made a budget?” Hanzo asked, surprised at that level of responsibility. McCree tipped his hat down in embarrassment, however.

“Well with me bein’ in trouble I gotta ask for allowance for missions beforehand, y’know, so I don’t do anything stupid and costly. I was gonna bait and trap the Junkers, so I only needed enough for a hotel, bit of taxi money, and food.”

The demon pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Figures. Is there ever a time you are  _ not _ in trouble with someone?”

“Nope!” he answered cheerfully. “Comes with bein’ one of the favorites of the big bosses.”

“None of them seemed to have pity on you back at that meeting, except perhaps Reyes.”

“Psh, that was for show,” McCree said, waving his hand. “Gabe and Ana got a soft spot for me, Jack too though he ain’t a commander no more. Took me a couple years t’ realize it, but they’re almost like parents to me. Took me in after the shit that went down with my old gang.”

“Oh,” Hanzo said quietly. “You must care about them a lot then.”

“Mhm,” McCree hummed, his mood mellowing a bit. “But on the flip side, it means they keep a closer eye on what I do. An’ what I do is break the rules. A lot.”

“You sound proud of that.”

McCree grinned. “You betcha. Number two trouble maker right here, right behind Genji.”

“Hm. I bet. He never gave up being carefree as we grew up.” Hanzo’s smile was bittersweet, nostalgic memories filling his head. He had missed out on so much of his brother’s life, even when he was alive. To hear Genji had retained one of the last traits Hanzo had personal experience with despite everything was comforting.

McCree peered at the map, then up at Hanzo who was lost in thought. “What was Genji like? Before all of whatever happened.”

The demon straightened and turned to McCree. “What?”

McCree shrugged as he turned them around a corner, not really expecting to get anywhere with the conversation. “I never knew the guy before Blackwatch, an’ he never talks about his past. I’m curious what y’all were like.”

Hanzo noticed that he changed the question from being about Genji to being about both Shimadas, but he refrained from calling him on it. Instead he tapped his clawed finger on the passenger door as the words slowly dragged out of his mouth. “He was always in some sort of trouble. As little kids he would come up with pranks and drag me into them. Usually it would involve tormenting the poor staff members, like filling their shoes with uncooked rice or dropping water balloons on them from the trees.”

He chuckled. “Things were worse for guests. Father would get so angry with him, but Genji was always looking for the next fun thing to do.”  

McCree was quiet, afraid to say something and snap Hanzo out of his rare sharing mood. He felt like a deer frozen in the headlights. If he wanted any chance of getting to know the secretive man better or any clue towards patching up the relationship between his demonic savior and his best friend, this was probably it.

“I wasn’t a part of that for long, though,” Hanzo continued. “The older we grew, the more meetings and lessons on how to be the perfect heir I had to attend. Genji skipped out on so many things I think the elders just gave up on trying to train him and focused on trying to control him. He went and did whatever he wanted while I did my duty and tried to reign him in.” He sighed.

“It was difficult having to balance my training with babysitting him. Sometimes we would go weeks without seeing each other. His exploits became wilder and more… unsavory as the years went by. He was famous in Hanamura for all the wrong things, tarnishing the family name every time he left those gates.”

His fingers curled, digging deep lines into the faux leather interior of the door.

McCree sensed this was all he’d get from the demon but was blown away by how much Hanzo had shared. It was starting to make sense why there was tension between them, certainly from the older brother’s side. He still had a strong sense of duty to his clan while the Genji that Jesse knew had completely renounced his family ties. Save for his brother, anyway. The cowboy’s curiosity would have to be put on hold, though, as they approached the location of the tracker.


	15. Lunch Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blurgh still working on chapter 16. After that there's gonna be two more chapters and this thing is done! But that's still a ways away for now. Forewarning that when I upload chapter 16 it doesn't have much plot related, it's more of a I-was-debating-but-convinced-to-include-some-sex kind of chapter. A Chapter Sexteen if you will. So if that ain't your cup of tea feel free to skip it!

The sleek black and silver car came to a rolling stop outside of a restaurant. It wasn’t the most showy or expensive place, but it was fancy enough to require nice clothes and a fat wallet. Just the kind of not too obvious spot a mob boss constantly looking over his shoulder would pick.

The target exited the vehicle after two of his guards did, and two more followed behind him. He appeared to have traded out his beach clothes for some pressed suit pants and a tight fitting white shirt, his muscles pulling at the buttons. His guards were dressed similarly, though with jackets to presumably hide their weapons. The group moved swiftly into the restaurant and the car peeled away.

McCree and Hanzo watched from down the block, the cowboy drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He waited until the escort car was far out of sight before taking their small rental out of park and easing down the road into the restaurant’s parking lot. Hanzo tensed when McCree shut the car off.

He looked at the windows of the restaurant then back to McCree. “Do you need me to scout the place first?” he offered, concern creasing his brow.

Jesse shook his head. “Gonna go in casual. ‘Sides, didn’t you say it was crazy to attack him in the middle of a buncha people with that many bodyguards?” He shot the demon a small smile which was returned. McCree turned and leaned into the back seat, pulling out a small box of spare bullets from the black duffel and squirreling them away in his pocket. Then he ran his fingers through his tangled hair, rolled his sleeves down over his tattoo and prosthetic, took a deep breath, and left the car. Hanzo followed close behind.

At the front door a nicely groomed waiter stood behind a podium. He took in McCree’s nice shirt and tight pants and tilted his head in a glimmer of interest. Regardless he greeted McCree and grabbed a menu.

“Table for one?”

“Nah, table fer two please.” McCree gestured at Hanzo. The waiter narrowed his eyes at the place McCree had indicated and McCree realized his mistake. “I, er, got someone I’m meetin’ here for lunch.”

With a bow of his head the waiter turned to the side. “Right this way sir.”

The restaurant was dimly lit with soft piano music playing distantly. The tables were covered in pristine white cloth with neatly folded napkins standing in front of chairs with golden seat covers. A curved bay window showed a steep slope on one side of the restaurant, giving a lovely view of the bustling streets. Gentle spotlights lit up bouquets of red and white flowers that sat on small decorative stands with ribbons tied around them. All in all it was the fanciest place the two of them had been since getting to Australia.

The waiter led McCree to a two-person table by the window. The mob boss and his crew were a few tables away, just on the corner of the bounty hunter’s vision. He stole a quick glance at them before thanking the waiter for the menu and holding it up. Most of his attention was drawn to trying to see what the target was doing so Hanzo floated over the table and turned his head to read.

Squinting, the demon looked to Jesse. “If you are already ‘over budget’ then how are you going to order anything?”

McCree shooed him away and Hanzo gracefully settled himself into the chair opposite.

“Don’t you have anythin’ better to do than pick on me oh my oh golly why. That’s more’n a hunk of meat should ever cost!” Jesse sucked in air through his teeth as he took a closer look at the menu. He shook his head in disapproval. “A damn crime right there. Practically highway robbery.”

Hanzo leaned on his elbow. “It is not  _ that _ expensive.”

“Hanzo, darlin’, you have somethin’ to learn about frugal livin’,” McCree tutted. He scratched his beard and frowned down at the menu. “Guess I better take care of things ‘fore they make me buy anythin’.”

As if on cue a smiling waiter with a blonde ponytail popped up by the table. He pulled out a sleek little notebook from his apron pocket and clicked his pen eagerly. “Anything I can get for you, sir?”

McCree smiled apologetically up at him. “Just water, please. I wanna wait for my lunch date to get here before I start eatin’.”

“Will do, sir.” The man scribbled down the order and quickly slipped away, ponytail bobbing behind him.

“What is it you plan to do?” he asked as he watched the perhaps too cheery man leave.

“I’m workin’ on it,” McCree replied. He tapped his boot and looked around the restaurant. There were enough customers that should anyone start shooting all hell would break loose. The exit was clear on the other side of the restaurant too, though there was a swinging kitchen door not far away. If he was going to get this guy he’d have to figure out how to separate him from everyone. He had a few ideas, but most of them he ruled out for potentially causing a panic. There was one idea, however, that was either going to work in his favor or go real south real quick. No one ever accused Jesse McCree of not taking risks.

Soon the waiter returned with his glass of water, complete with a lemon wedge. “Anything else I can get for you, sir?”

“Actually there is.” McCree leaned closer and jerked his thumb over at the muscle-bound man. “That guy over there is one of my bosses, an’ he ain’t too happy with me right now. Didn’t even realize we’d be having lunch at the same place but I ain’t about to waste an opportunity t’ get on his good side again, y’know?”

The waiter nodded, sparing a glance over at the table where the five people were engrossed in conversation. Compared to his shorter uniformed thugs the target really stood out. He quickly looked back, a little paled, and McCree continued. “Can you send him a bottle of your best wine on me? Don’t tell ‘im who it’s from, though. I want him in a good mood ‘fore I go talkin’ to him.”

Giving him a sly smile the waiter nodded firmly, his hair flipping around as he did so. “I’ll take care of it.” Once more he bobbed away, a little eagerness to his step.

McCree breathed out a sigh of relief. “I was real worried he’d question me for a second there. Poor guy is too quick to please. Wonder if he’s new?”

“What does giving the target wine have to do with killing him?” Hanzo asked curiously. “Do you have poison?”

McCree waved his hand. “Nothin’ like that. I just hope he drinks it. Guy like that doesn’t take anonymous gifts, but if he gets an unopened bottle of expensive shit he might. If he does then we just gotta wait.”

“So you’re getting him drunk.”

“Will ya have a little faith, Nightlight?”

The two bickered quietly until Hanzo spotted the waiter making his way to the large table. He motioned to McCree and they watched as the blonde man timidly approached the intimidating boss with a smile on his face and a bottle in his hands. They couldn’t hear the exchange of words but they did see the mob boss clench his fist and bang it on the table, rattling the cutlery. He looked around the room and McCree quickly absorbed himself in figuring out how to unfold the elaborate napkin in front of him. Still, one of the guards pointed at the place in front of the boss and the waiter obediently set the wine down before scuttling off.

Though it took a bit of discussion and inspecting the bottle eventually one of the guards opened it and poured a little into a glass and drank it. They waited a few minutes before finally filling up a glass and passing it to the boss. He cautiously swirled it around, took a sniff, then drank it.

Hanzo nodded at them. “That man is about as suspicious as some of the elders were.”

“Elders?” McCree peeked and smirked when he saw the target drinking his gift. “What elders?”

“The clan elders. They had good reason to be, considering their positions, but some of them would never leave the estate and refused to trust servants who haven’t worked for them for less than a decade.”

“Sounds like some of the officers at work.” McCree chuckled to himself as he went about using a fork to try and get the lemon out of his water. “Buncha scared limp noodles if you ask me.”

Hanzo laughed. “Perhaps. I used to worry that I would end up like them, scared and mistrusting everything.” He held out his hand and flexed his clawed gray fingers. “I suppose I won’t have to worry about that anymore, though.”

“I know don’t plan on bein’ like that, if I make it to old age,” McCree scoffed. He almost got the lemon out but it slipped on the edge of the cup and plunked right back into the water. The cowboy pouted. “Hard to be paranoid when ya got a demon watchin’ yer back.”

Hanzo pulled his cheek out of his hand and set it in his lap, fidgeting. “...That… has yet to be foreseen…” He trailed off, unable to look at McCree.

Jesse successfully removed the pesky fruit and turned his attention back to the demon. “Whatcha mean, sugar?”

Hanzo bit his lip and furrowed his brows, not sure how much he wanted to say. There was a nagging feeling that had slowly started to burn away at the edges of his mind since Jesse had blanked at the beach. He wasn’t sure what it was, but talk of being together in Jesse’s old age seemed to fan the flame. He got the sense that the two wouldn’t be together for that long and it twisted his gut like he’d swallowed a pile of coal. If he was being honest, the thought of having to leave after this brief foray into the living world and abandon McCree scared him. It was a far cry from so long ago, when the two of them were at the casino, sitting on opposite beds and Hanzo grieving over potentially having to stay with the buffoon his whole life.

He felt his mouth pull into a deep frown as he let that thought sit. McCree narrowed his eyes at him, clearly suspicious.

In the corner the mob boss and his goons were steadily getting through the bottle of wine. It was nearly empty. With a sigh Hanzo tilted his chin towards them.

“It’s not important. What is important is that your goal of getting them drunk has likely started.”

McCree leaned back in his chair, not even sparing them a look. “My goal ain’t t’ get them drunk. I need the boss to leave the table, an’ far as I can figure my best shot is havin’ him go to the bathroom. The wine’s jus’ to speed up that process.”

“It would be nice if you would tell me your plans ahead of time for once,” Hanzo grumbled.

“It’d also be nice if you didn’t dodge my question when somethin’s clearly important,” McCree countered. “Feels like every time I think we got a good trust thing goin’ on, you clam up. Now, I ain’t sayin’ you gotta spill your guts out t’ me, but give me some credit, Han. If it’s some spooky shit or some tough feelings shit, I can take it. Don’t hold back on my account.”

His words gave Hanzo pause. It didn’t feel right to tell McCree what he felt brewing while he was in the middle of an important mission that the bounty hunter had so much vested in. He shook his head. “It is nothing I can say for sure. I believe it may just be a demon issue, but it is hard to know. I’ve only studied the spiritual realm; I have never experienced it from this end.”

This seemed to pique the other’s interest, which was a small relief that the topic would be diverted.

“I think Genji mentioned somethin’ about that. I tried askin’ him how y’all know about all this spirit stuff but he wouldn’t tell me.”

Hanzo let himself smile, just a little. “We had to study them thoroughly. Genji had a better knack for it, surprisingly, though it could have been because he was more interested in the spirits and tales than in ‘boring’ subjects like history or math.”

That seemed to track with McCree. Genji was meticulous about his oni gear and loved critiquing movies and games about the subject. He just always thought the guy liked fantasy stuff, not that he actually knew things like how to bring over a demon from the spirit realm.

“Our clan has had deep ties with the spiritual world for centuries, possibly longer,” Hanzo continued. “Long ago our ancestors forged a powerful deal with a family of spirits, that they would be bound to the head of the family and their heirs to guard and serve them in life. In return when the bonded Shimadas die, our spirits would then do the same for them.”

McCree whistled lowly. “You’re tellin me all of y’all Shimadas had demons with ya?”

Again Hanzo shook his head. “We would never associate with demons; it is hard to trust them since they dislike humans. Besides, only the main family is allowed to be contracted. Our guardians are much too powerful to be bound to anyone else.”

“Sounds handy.” The cowboy leaned forward and winked. “I think I’d rather be stuck with you, though, partner.”

Though he felt flustered in the way Jesse seemed really adept at bringing out of him, Hanzo couldn’t help but laugh and roll his eyes. He was about to return the sentiment when movement behind McCree caught his attention. He sighed and his smile diminished. “Looks like we will have to continue this some other time, ‘partner.’ You have a bounty on the move.”

McCree turned his head in time to watch the bathroom door swing shut and a single guard come to an about-face in front of it. His heart picked up as he realized the boss had gone in alone; this was his chance, and probably the best one he was going to get. He was going to be able to finish the mission that changed so much of his life, the one that he thought would have to stay as a mistake in his past. Nerves and excitement and anger all burned through him enough to cause his arm to shake. McCree focused on the demon across from him, willing his body to calm down with a few controlled breaths.

“Hey, uh, Hanzo. Think you’d be able to help me out with somethin’?”

“Did you think I was just going to watch?”

It was McCree’s turn to roll his eyes. “Can you possess someone other than me?” he asked and jerked his thumb at the guard.

Hanzo glanced over at the thug. He was short, with beefy arms, a clean shaved face, and spiked brown hair styled like his employer. He barely moved but the slight way of his legs and unfocused eyes let tell that he was a little intoxicated.

“Perhaps. It might be more difficult, but considering his current state, I think I will be able to take over.”

“Thank ya darlin’,” Jesse chimed as he stood up. He skirted around the tables, trying not to draw too much attention from the table of bodyguards, and made his way to the man posted in front of the bathroom door.

The man raised his hand to stop McCree from approaching. “The bathroom is occupied.”

McCree offered a charming smile. “The whole bathroom? C’mon, I just need to take a quick wizz.”

The guard shook his head as Hanzo stepped cautiously up to his side. “I can’t let you in. Piss somewhere else.”

McCree flicked his eyes between the demon and the guard, letting out an unconvincing chuckle. “Have a little sympathy, would ya?”

The guard squinted and glanced over to where McCree was looking. He saw nothing, of course, but McCree saw Hanzo reach his clawed hand out and slowly put it through the man who shivered as if a cold wind blew through him.

The guard shook his head and glared at McCree, who was sheepishly still smiling. “Are you on drugs or something? Get out of here!”

Hanzo closed his eyes in concentration and faded into smoke that surrounded and seeped into the man. McCree looked on with wide eyes as the guy went from glaring to going slack jawed, body shaking with a jerk here and there. Suddenly his eyes faded to a bright white, like an echo of demon’s own, then returned to normal just as quickly and his body relaxed. After a moment of pause the bodyguard slowly straightened, a nauseous look on his face.

“Hanzo?”

“Indeed. This body is not very responsive, and it feels…” He rubbed at his face where his goatee was supposed to be. The sensory overload just from that caused him to jerk away from his hand and hold it at length. “...Gross.”

McCree laughed. “Well, you don’t gotta be in that gross guy fer long. I just need ya to play puppet and help me make sure the head asshole don’t leave my sight.”

Hanzo nodded and took a shaky step out of the way, allowing the bounty hunter to push open the door to the bathroom. Inside stood the mob boss, washing his hand in the sink. He shook his hands out and pinched at his hair, touching up his short mohawk. The door to the bathroom clicked shut and he swivelled around, narrow eyebrows drawing together. He was large, almost tall enough to brush the ceiling, and had an air of intimidation and power radiating off of him.

Despite this McCree strode in with a confident smile. He gave a friendly wave. “Well howdy! Long time no see!”

“Who are ya? Why were ya let in here?” His voice was deep and grating, reverberating unpleasantly off the tiled walls of the bathroom. The mafioso clenched his fists and turned to fully face McCree, who put up both hands placatingly.

“You don’t recognize me? I’m a little insulted.” McCree’s eyes darkened, though his smiled stayed put. “Can’t say I didn’t expect it, though. I got a proposition for ya. How’s about you calm down an’ we talk about this outside?”

A flicker of surprise flashed across the mob boss’s face. He widened his stance and hunched himself, ready for a fight. “What makes ya think I’d do that? Where’s my bodyguard?”

“Still standin’ there, don’t worry. Kinda drunk and stupid, but I left ‘im alone. You can even bring ‘im along if you want,” McCree offered, dumbfounding the boss. He turned around and exited the bathroom with more restraint than he knew he had. The bounty hunter wanted so badly to just take his target out then and there but he knew he would regret being hasty. For one, he couldn’t just leave a dead body in the bathroom of a restaurant to be found by pissed off guards or random civilians. For another the sound of a gunshot in such a place would probably cause more trouble than it was worth. His usual guns-ablaze style was out the window.

With a sigh, Jesse realized both Shimada brothers would probably be proud he was taking such measures. Genji had been trying for years to get Jesse to be less full of himself and more cautious every now and then, though considering he tended to be just as reckless when in a fight or in their down time, he wasn’t that great of an example. Hanzo on the other hand was practically the poster boy of careful thought and control, though with less of the stuffy attitude held by many similar people Jesse had met. Hell, the guy made him laugh during a serious meeting just to mess with him. He didn’t know what the demon was like before death, but he wondered if Hanzo ever did that stuff when he was alive or if he never got to be that free.

The bounty hunter was a little surprised and very smug when he heard the bathroom door open and shut behind him. The mob boss glared angrily a the back of McCree’s head. He gave an accusatory sneer at his guard. Hanzo simply bowed his head and shrugged while attempting to keep his gaze focused. McCree led the three of them through the kitchen door off the side, quick to get them out of sight of the other bodyguards who seemed to be having a good time finishing off the wine. The mob boss stayed close to Hanzo, thankfully oblivious to his possession. Though the chefs and bussers were surprised at the guests’ intrusion none dared to get in the intimidating trio’s way. Instead they continued their bustle around them, some not even glancing their way.

McCree found the door that led to the back of the building and took them outside. The heat and steam of the kitchen was replaced with the heat of the sun and a forgiving breeze. The back alley was fairly empty, only containing a smelly dumpster and a ramp out to the street for delivery trucks. Otherwise it was fenced off and quiet. Perfect for them.

His boots scuffed on the asphalt as Jesse walked ahead a bit and turned on his heel. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigar and lighter and went about lighting it up. The mob boss crossed his arms and impatiently drummed his finger on his arm.

“What do ya want, huh? Money? Protection? Puh. You can forget it.”

McCree drew on his cigar, a satisfying glow growing on the end, and returned his lighter before taking the cigar between his fingers and exhaling white smoke into the air. He tapped the fresh ash onto the ground and rested his metal hand on his hip. He was the picture of unbothered and unimpressed.

“Come on, I don’t got time for this,” the boss grumbled, is voice grating together like gravel. He turned to his not-quite-all-there guard. “Shoot this fool already, will ya?”

“Hold yer horses there, bucko,” McCree tutted. “I still wanted to talk. Now I don’t suppose you remember me, which is fair enough. You were just a target to me so I never bothered to remember your name either.”

The mob boss raised his thin eyebrow. “Ya got some grudge or something? Well too bad. I don’t remember ever meeting you, and some nobody flea ain’t gonna do me in.”

McCree took another drag of his cigar. “This ‘nobody flea’ got you to go out with just one body guard, didn’t I?”

Hanzo gave him a warning look to not push his luck, but the boss just laughed.

“That doesn’t mean shit. Any one of my guys can take ya scrawny ass down before you blink. Even if they couldn’t, they’re mostly for show anyways.” To make his point he stepped forward, away from Hanzo, and looked over McCree. He was half a foot taller and his arms were thick enough to put Gabe and Jack to shame.

Regardless McCree just let a stream of smoke waft lazily out towards the boss’s face.

“Got a question for ya, if you don’t mind me askin’. Not really important, but I’m curious.” He glanced over to the possessed guard and back to the man. “How did you know my partner and I were waitin’ for ya at the warehouse?”

The boss narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What are ya talking about?”

McCree put his metal hand on his chest in mock offense. “You don’t recall? Lemme jog your memory.”

He shoved his cigar in his mouth, muffling his voice a little, and held out his fingers as he ticked off the details. “Few months back? Up in Canada? Warehouse full of crates of illegal weapons! You and your guys went in one night, drew out two bounty hunters after your head. But you got the drop on ‘em and you waited until you could see one o’ their faces before you personally set off the delayed detonator.”

Slow recognition dawned on the mob boss’s face, shifting from pinched anger to a glimmer of surprise. He pointed loosely at McCree as his words caught up with his thoughts.

“Whole place went up in pieces. I thought I saw a hunk of something go clean through ya.” His mouth pulled up into a nasty smile. “Hard to kill a flea though, huh? I knew we should’ve gone back to finish ya off.”

“You don’t even deserve one of Peacekeeper’s bullets between your eyes.” Jesse’s hands clenched into fists so tightly the metal of his prosthetic groaned. He smile a too toothy grin, as if he were baring fangs at the man. “You know what? I gotta thank ya. If it weren’t for your dick move, I wouldn’t have met my friend over there,” McCree said through gritted teeth, and gestured at Hanzo.

The boss looked at his bodyguard and back at McCree, confudled. He jerked his thumb back before asking “You know Ryan?”

Frowning, McCree sighed. “No I don’t- I’m not talking about the meathead. Speaking of, Hanzo! Feel free to come out now darlin’. I think we’re ready to wrap this up.”

It was as if the puppet had been cut off it’s strings as Hanzo sagged with relief. “Finally. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand being inside this flesh.”

Dark smoke began seeping out of the bodyguard like fog off of a lake. His eyes flashed white and all at once the man collapsed onto the ground, no more than a sack. The smoke rose above his body and coalesced into a familiar form.

Hanzo looked nauseous as he floated a foot above the body, hands clenched at his upper arms. “Please tell me you don’t want me to possess him, too,” he grumbled and nodded at the mob boss who was currently wide eyed and reaching for a small gun hidden in his waistband.

“I wouldn’t make ya suffer like that, darlin’. If you could take help me out a little here, though?” McCree pinched his cigar and used it to point at the boss taking the safety off of his gun.

“Of course,” Hanzo hummed. With a tilt of his chin the gun went flying out of the target’s hands.

The boss jumped back, looking around and clearly struggling to keep his cool. “Who’s there? What kind of shit are ya pulling?”

“Thank ya kindly,” Jesse directed to Hanzo. He took a slow pull off his cigar and stepped closer to the mob boss who took an equal step back. “You gonna tell me how ya knew we were there at the warehouse or not? That’s all I wanna know, partner. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

The boss sneered. “You don’t call the shots here. I do- oof!”

Hanzo smirked, hand raised and pointed at the wall where the target was pinned by an unseen force. His feet kicked against the air but beyond that he couldn’t move.

“What the hell is this?”

McCree clicked his tongue in disappointment. “It’s an easy question, bud.”

The boss glared daggers at the cowboy. “I don’t-”

The demon’s finger lifted the barest bit and the man’s words were cut off in a choke. He let him struggle around for a bit, making panicked faces, before lowering his finger again and the man gasped like a fish.

“Fine! Fine! God, it isn’t even that big of a deal!” He spat and took a few deep breaths. “I have people everywhere. There were some at the bar where you idiots were so obvious about your plan. Had my boys at the warehouse keep an eye out for the god damn bounty hunters playin’ dress up, then secretly cart out the stock after ya already saw it.” His face twisted as he laughed, loud and raspy. “I didn’t lose a damn thing taking you dumb fuckers out! You think you were the first greedy numbskulls full of themselves enough to try to come after  _ me _ ? Ha! I’ve taken out dozens of people after my head, and in much slower, painful ways! I just love seeing that stupid ass expression on their faces when they realize  _ I know _ \- kkrk!”

McCree’s jaw was hurting from how hard he was clenching his teeth. He felt like he was let down, but that was ridiculous. Revenge wasn’t usually on his menu anymore for this very reason; it was never as satisfying as he’d hope. He was still missing an arm, he had scars that would never heal, and he had a near-death experience that he would carry with him for the rest of his life and for what? This guy’s fetish with killing people in flashy ways?

Hanzo touched down and walked over, one finger lazily pointed at the target’s throat. He put a hand, solid and comforting, on Jesse’s shoulder. “Would you like to do the honors? He is your bounty, after all.”

McCree smiled at his demon and shook his head as he reached for the gun tucked into his boot. “I got a better idea. How ‘bout we do this together?”

Hanzo smiled, his fangs poking out over his lips. “It would be my pleasure.”

The mob boss was dropped to the ground and his hand clutched at his neck, wild eyes looking around frantically for whatever invisible cruelty was being used against him. For the briefest of moments he saw what looked to be a gray and red man standing next to the bounty hunter. He was clothed in ghostly white, with piercing white eyes, sharp teeth, and a pair of horns curling out of his forehead. That unearthly gaze turned to him and he felt a cold chill, then the apparition was gone. In the next moment, there was a glow from the bounty hunter, a loud crack, and the man’s heart stopped for good.


	16. Wild Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaaaa the last chapter has kinda stalled on me so the posting of this got delayed while I reworked bits of chapter 17. Writing this chapter was kinda squicky for me and I don't think I'm any good at writing NSFW. As I said before, this chapter is totally skippable if you prefer.

“Yeah I  _ know _ that wasn’t supposed to happen but- Captain Amari, please.” McCree shut his eyes and held the phone a few inches away from his ear. He gave it a few seconds before he put it back in place. “That had nothin’ to do with anythin’. I saw an opportunity an’ took it.”

While the bounty hunter argued with his superior Hanzo lounged on the motel bed. He idly tested the knit red and gold striped blanket, fluffing up the blanket with his hands before pressing it down again. The rest of his body appeared to be resting on the bed but the peaks and folds of the comforter phased through him. He didn’t mind, content with the small satisfaction of pushing his fingers into the soft thing.

Eventually McCree sigh and drooped. “Yes ma’am. I understand. I’ll fly out in the mornin’.”

He clicked off the call and tossed his phone onto a side table. Grumbling he then flopped face-first in front of Hanzo, head buried in the welcoming plush of the recently fluffed blanket, and kicked off his boots. The demon frowned at him, offended that he dare get in the way.

“I’m gonna get my ass chewed off, spit out, and handed right back to me tomorrow,” McCree mumbled into the bed. “But it was worth it.”

“Are they going to punish you for taking out the wrong target?” Hanzo asked down at his muffled partner.

McCree shook his head. “That mob guy’s been a target for longer than them Junkers, and he was just straight up wanted dead.” He rolled onto his side so he could face Hanzo. “Most I can figure is they’ll yell at me for lettin’ ‘em go, but I did technically fix my fuck up and pull in a big bounty for Blackwatch.”

Captain Amari had called him within seconds of receiving his text message and photos of the body. She yelled at him all the way from the restaurant back to the motel, going through every rule he broke and exactly how stupid it was to go after the guy alone. He knew she was more worried than anything, though, so the cowboy took the verbal thrashing with that in mind. For now he could enjoy the calm before the storm when his other superiors would repeat the same argument when he got back to base.

“Thanks for helpin’ me out, Hanzo. I don’t think I woulda been able to get away with it if it weren’t for your meddlin’ ways,” McCree said with a smile. He waggled his eyebrows, hoping he got the reference, but was met with that raise of eyebrows and head tilt that meant Hanzo was rolling his blank eyes. Hanzo flicked his finger and McCree promptly fell backwards off the bed. He landed with an “oof!” and a freshly sore shoulder.

“That was uncalled for,” he griped and sat up to rest his chin on the mattress and pout.

His pout didn’t last long though because Hanzo laughed, light and with the barest snort, and McCree couldn’t help but smile.

“You would have been able to do it alone, I’m sure,” Hanzo conceded. “Despite your appearances, you are sneaky and clever, not to mention an excellent shot. You would have done fine.”

McCree laughed and sat up straighter, bringing his arms up to lay his cheek on. “Aw shucks, don’t flatter me. You’re gonna make me blush, Nightlight.”

Hanzo snorted at the nickname before reaching out and flicking his nose. “I wouldn’t hand out the compliment if you didn’t deserve it, you dumb smelly cowboy.”

Perhaps out of instinct McCree grabbed his hand before he could pull it back, startling Hanzo. Still, his hand remained tangible and chilling as ever in McCree’s own. Jesse looked up at Hanzo, his big brown eyes serious and caring in a way the elder Shimada hadn’t seen from anyone in a long, long time. He couldn’t take it and turned his head away.

“You had as much a hand in it as I did. An’ if I’m bein pretty honest I wouldn’t’ve wanted to do it without you right there next to me.” He shrugged, focusing on his hand on top of Hanzo’s, slowly brushing his thumb over his cool gray skin. “I’m real glad you were the one that saved my ass, Hanzo. Ya mean a lot to me an’ I like ya. A whole helluva lot.”

Hanzo felt his face heat up and his words sizzle out in his throat. He curled his fingers and allowed them to become intangible again as he pulled his hand out of Jesse’s, the pit of his stomach doing flips. The cowboy’s smile waned and he slowly closed his fist and stood up without bravado. He pulled up a section of his hair, still stringy from the air drying after his swim earlier, and chuckled.

“Guess I am kinda gross right now, huh? I’m gonna uh. Take a shower,” he said tightly, trying to play it off.

Jesse swiftly walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a sharp click and starting the water shortly after, leaving Hanzo alone on the bed. The demon couldn’t feel many physical sensations but he certainly felt a little colder at the cowboy’s absence. He huffed and flopped forward in annoyance. Why did he always manage to push away people he wanted to be close to?

Cursing to himself, he grasped at the blanket tightly, shoulders hunched and eyes squeezed shut. His sharp nails dug into the fabric and he heard a tearing noise. The demon quickly let go but his claws got caught as he tried to pull them out. With a louder curse this time Hanzo shook his hands free, widening the rips and making a mess of the red blanket. He realized too late that he could’ve phased his hands through it and in a fit of frustration he flung the stupid thing across the room with a nod of his head. It hit with a fwump against the far wall, knocking down a bland picture of a sunset over a beach and breaking the gaudy frame. Hanzo winced and looked to the bathroom but the shower still ran.

He sighed. He wasn’t deserving of McCree’s praise. Look at him, throwing a tantrum like a child because he couldn’t get over himself long enough to admit to the cowboy how he felt. He wasn’t expecting McCree to wait for something that might never happen, either. Hanzo was always bad at talking about his honest thoughts and feelings. Genji used to say he showed them more often than he said them, despite his attempts at a cool, unbreakable demeanor.

Hanzo perked up a little at the thought. Maybe he should try that instead.

\--

Jesse rubbed a hand down his face as he towelled off. He had been so eager to get out of the room that he forgot to grab a change of clothes. He wrapped the towel securely around his waist and ran his fingers through his damp locks. It was kind of stupid of him to run away like that, but when Hanzo pulled away and refused to look at him he was panicked and hurt like an arrow had been shot through his chest. Jesse must have been reading the whole situation wrong and overstepped his bounds. He should’ve at least stayed long enough to apologize instead of skittering off to sulk.

Oh well. At least he had some time to regain his composure before saying he was sorry and they could go right back to being friends again. God he hoped they could anyway. He might’ve embarrassed Hanzo so much the demon might not talk to him for a good long time. Hell, he embarrassed himself enough he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to keep up the friendly banter.

With a deep, settling breath that rattled in his chest, McCree plastered a relaxed smile on his face (or at least as relaxed as he could make it), and eased open the bathroom door. He didn’t see the demon at first, which confused him since he hadn’t sensed him going back to the tattoo. Maybe Hanzo left the room? He was simultaneously saddened and relieved at not having to face him again and apologise for his big slip up.

McCree stepped out into the room and looked around. He didn’t have much time to register the flash of white and gray before he felt an invisible force push him against the wall.

In hindsight, maybe he should’ve considered Hanzo would be angry at him. He did tend to be angry at a lot of McCree’s stupid actions after all.

He wasn’t expecting Hanzo to press close right after, however. It startled McCree into a small yelp.

“H-Han? Wha-”

“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding,” Hanzo said, voice low and eyes boring into McCree like a flame. It made him shiver. “I would like to correct that.”

The demon brought up a hand and dragged the tips of his claws lightly down Jesse’s neck, trailing past his collarbone and down through the hair on his chest. The cowboy swallowed hard, fear and arousal mingling in his addled mind which he found an interesting combination considering how close the danger was. Adrenaline does funny things he guessed.

“Uh, I thought- I mean I’m sorry for just kinda dumpin’ that on you earlier. If you want me to back off I will. We could just forget-”

“On the contrary, Jesse,” Hanzo interrupted and oh god his name dripped like a tantalizing poison from his tongue. “I wish for the exact opposite.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

“You don’t gotta, uh, do somethin’ like- like  _ this _ -” McCree stumbled over his words, trying to make sense of the situation. With Hanzo leaning his head close and gently tangling his other hand in Jesse’s hair it was hard to piece things together.

Hanzo used his grip on the back of his head to gently pull his face forward until they were scant inches apart. “I am doing this because I want to. I wish to show you what exactly I think of you.” He paused and leaned back a little. “If that’s fine with you.”

Eyebrows shot up and seemed frozen there for a moment before Jesse smirked, lopsided and confused but feeling much more real happiness than the front he forced on before. “Gonna be honest, I still ain’t sure if you plan on killin’ me or kissin’ me, but I am a-okay with both.” Even at the same time, he added silently.

Hanzo rolled his eyes but having gotten permission he closed the space between them. He hadn’t had to concentrate on making so much of himself physical before and it took a little more effort than he thought it would, but it was definitely worth it for the way McCree’s still-wet skin pressed against him and the way his lips felt against his own.

Jesse sighed into the kiss as they moved against each other sweet and easy. He dragged his hands up Hanzo’s shoulders to cup either side of his jaw, relieved Hanzo had released his hold. It seemed he was taking most of his energy to become the most solid Jesse’s ever felt even when he was starting to become distracted by the kiss slowly intensifying. He wasn’t sure who added tongue first, but when it happened he heard Hanzo groan and Jesse moved down to grip tightly at the collar of his kimono.

Hanzo’s hands resumed roaming across his bare torso, tracing the curves and planes he found there. His fingertips skimmed over the various scars and pits from battle, being mindful to avoid the large one that marred his tattoo. He seemed fond of following the faint trail of hair covering Jesse’s chest and ending near his stomach. As those chilly digits went further down McCree felt anticipation build.

The feeling was magnified when Hanzo broke away, giving Jesse the breather his human lungs required, and moved down to his neck instead. Hanzo released his hold on the back of Jesse’s head to brush some hair out of the way and Jesse gasped as he felt the barest prick of fangs when Hanzo bit him and sucked. It was hard and sudden but not unpleasant, eased by the tongue that followed over the spot. He hummed in approval as Hanzo continued similarly down the crook of his neck. Jesse almost forgot Hanzo was a spiritual apparition- if it weren’t for his hand slipping down  _ into _ the demon’s back when he attempted to clutch at it.

Hanzo frowned and pulled back, his cheeks flushed both in excitement and embarrassment. “My apologies-”

“No no, don’t worry about it darlin’.” Jesse smiled reassuringly. “We can work around it.”

Still embarrassed, Hanzo dragged his hands down the cowboy’s body in distraction, coming to a stop just below his stomach. “Speaking of working around things…”

The demon raised his eyebrow and glanced down at Jesse’s barely hanging on towel. The tops of his hips were exposed and the beginning of a trail of hair disappeared into the terrycloth depths. Hanzo licked his lips and Jesse’s breathing sped up, watching his tongue dart across that interesting mouth. He could’ve sworn he saw his fangs grow a little more, poking out over his lips and stark white against his dark gray skin.

“That will not last long the way things are going.”

Jesse chuckled nervously and moved to tug the covering tighter. His hands were stopped by long, cool fingers sliding down his wrist. Once more Hanzo leaned forward, nose brushing against the shell of his ear.

“I would not mind if you do not,” Hanzo whispered.

Jesse groaned. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Han.”

Still, Jesse let go of the towel. Fingers gathered his wrists into one hand and swiftly pinned his arms above his head while the other hand skimmed along the edge of the towel. McCree couldn’t tear his eyes away as the fingers danced the barrier, the faintest touch against his skin and tantalizingly close to his most sensitive areas. One clawed hooked into the fabric, grazing him lightly and he couldn’t help but bite his lip.

And then Hanzo let go. Jesse closed his eyes and let out a breath that turned into a full on whine. He half heartedly twisted his hips toward the retreating hand, wishing it would come back.

“Aw, come on! Why you gotta tease a man like that, darlin’?”

Hanzo smirked and released his hold on Jesse’s wrists, though the cowboy found he was still unable to move them. “If we are to work around my…  _ situation _ , shall we say, then I need to be able to keep my concentration for as long as possible. You make that very difficult, especially like this.”

He gestured up and down at Jesse, pinned against the wall, half naked with the towel only just hanging together, hair clinging to his face and pouting as he tried to inch back towards Hanzo. It was very amusing to see all his flirtatious bravado out the door and Hanzo was not going to pass up this opportunity so quickly.

Jesse squirmed under the demon’s appreciative gaze, his face flushed and a shaky smile creeping onto his face. “I’m gettin’ the feelin’ you’re gettin’ some interestin’ plans.”

“Only if you’re comfortable with them,” Hanzo hummed as he sat down on the bed. He could sense that the cowboy was still baffled and a little uneasy about all of this, which was understandable.

“Darlin’ if it’s comin’ from you, I’m up for just about anything.”

“Anything you say?” Hanzo’s mouth curled in a devilish smile that sent a jolt of anticipation through Jesse.

“Shit,” he murmured.

He didn’t have much to say after that though, only a loud gasp as Hanzo brought up his finger and what felt like the careful pressure of a hand brushed up along the length of his body, tracing over every dip and curve as if water was washing over him. It was a strange sensation, devoid of the warmth of a person but feeling very similar to when the demon’s cold flesh would come in contact with his own. That sensation moved with Hanzo’s delicate finger, working along all the way up his arms and sliding back down in broad circles as if Hanzo himself was working at Jesse’s tense muscles and caressing him.

Without taking his eyes off of Jesse’s face the demon slid his other arm out of his top as if slipping out of a robe. He slowly untied his ribbon and ran his hand through his hair, idly keeping his free hand up and raising another finger- and another invisible pressure.

This one was like an icy tendril as it wormed it’s way up under the towel, massaging at his inner thigh and adding such a stark temperature difference that Jesse visibly shook. His thighs were shifted further apart and he turned his face into his arm the higher it went, so daringly close. He was reminded of some of the nights he’d spent alone before, experimenting with things and figuring out what he liked. At one point he’d tried playing with ice cubes and this seemed similar, but just different enough that he felt his legs going weak with excitement and pleasure. This time it wasn’t just him by himself, fooling around. This time there was someone else controlling it, dragging it along his skin and making him alert. Between that and being watch by Hanzo somehow casually reclining on the bed Jesse wasn’t sure how long he could stay standing.

He squeezed his eyes shut but they snapped open when the cold tendrils retreated with a teasing flick. The cowboy looked over at Hanzo, abandoning any pretense of being level-headed as his eyebrows knit helplessly together and a desperate groan tumbled out of his throat.

It seemed like the demon had been enjoying it, too, if the way Hanzo bit at his lower lip like he was eagerly watching a delicious meal being prepared was any indication. Shit, Hanzo was beautiful like that, though. He was leaning back a little, propped up on his arm and giving a tantalizing arc to his back. His hair grazed his shoulders and Jesse found himself wanting to bury his hands in it. His clothes were almost all off, pooled around his hips or just gone completely. He had a commanding gaze, his chin tilted up in appraisal; he was the picture of self-assured and in control. Yet by his reactions he was also clearly eager for something McCree was giving him.

“You do not get off that easily, cowboy,” Hanzo purred, and Jesse melted against the wall.

It was a little frustrating, being so far from the demon and yet pinned by his hands. The damn towel was still on him, if barely, and there was really only one thing holding it up at this point. Still, they were only just getting started. Jesse smiled in anticipation of the long night.


	17. Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added a bit to the end! Next chapter will be released very soon.

The next morning was full of groggy movements, a quick cleanup, and rushing off to the airport. McCree was thankful the plane ride would afford him some much-needed sleep time, since most of it had been forgone the night before.

Hanzo didn’t even bother coming out of the tattoo that morning, which was fine with him. Hanzo had been exhausted, melting into smoke and vanishing into McCree’s tattooed arm not long before Jesse himself had passed out on the bed. It had been a… rough night, to say the least. He was amazed he hadn’t just completely slept through his alarm.

By the time they made it back to Blackwatch Headquarters McCree was sore all over but noticeably more rested. Hanzo didn’t make another appearance until the bounty hunter was ushered into an office to give his report to Reyes. True to form, the asshole floated around the commander and made obscene gestures. It was hard to keep a straight face while being yelled at for losing his original target when someone was lounging in the air like he was in some kind of Renaissance painting and seeing how close he could kick his foot by the commander’s head without it going entirely through.

He probably should’ve been paying a little more attention though because when the pile of papers was dropped in front of him with a hefty _thump_ he was more than a little confused as to why _he_ was the one who had to fill all these out. Still, he obediently gathered them up and sarcastically thanked Reyes, receiving a smack to the back of his head and a growled order to “get out of this office smartass or so help me-”

Jesse knew better than to stick around to find out the consequences. He laughed as he ran out, though, knowing Gabriel didn’t mean anything by it. He was honestly surprised he got off with just a mountain of paperwork. Still, even that wasn’t too bad. Not when he had a demon hovering over him as he scribbled out his excuses.

McCree groaned and stretched after finishing the twentieth page. Hanzo chuckled, crossing his arms and tapping his chin.

“You know, the people here are soft. If someone I commanded made the same mistakes, they would be demoted and probably lose a few fingers if I was in a good mood.”

“Heh, well, I got that covered,” McCree said as he tipped his hat up and leaned back in his chair, pointedly wiggling his prosthetic digits. “You sound like a real demon of a boss.”

“Very funny cowboy.” Giving a toothy smirk Hanzo flicked his hat back down over his eyes.

McCree laughed and took his hat off altogether, lest the other man keep messing with it. “I’m a god damn riot, _and_ I’m nicer to my underlings.”

“‘Your underlings’?” The shock on Hanzo’s face was priceless. He shook his head and hands as if completely rejecting the idea. “They allowed _you_ to be in charge of others?”

McCree snorted. “Yes, they ‘allow’ me t’ boss people around! Is it so hard t’ believe I’m a high rankin’ agent?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even hesitate!” McCree sighed and begrudgingly went back to filling out forms. “I got all sortsa duties. I’m in charge a lettin’ newbies do shit other than cleaning and bein’ desk jockeys. Plus I get t’ be the head honcho on missions. Unless a’course yer brother’s tagging along or an officer’s ridin’ my ass.”

At the mention of Genji Hanzo’s teasing smile faded. He turned away, pulling his legs up to cross beneath him. McCree silently cursed to himself for making Hanzo retreat yet again, but it was gosh darn hard not to talk about his partner. He couldn’t just tip-toe around the subject forever.

The lines on the form in front of him seemed to be made of gibberish. He bit his lip in thought. Hanzo did say he was bad at talking things out before. Maybe he needed a little nudge. Taking a deep breath McCree did his best to seem nonchalant as he asked “so what happened between you and yer brother, anyway?”

Well, being forward seemed to at least catch Hanzo off guard. He bunched up his shoulders and clenched his fingers all at once, like a cat raising its fur. He was quiet, though, his face turned away with no sign of being willing to respond. McCree chewed on his pen, caught between wanting to take it back immediately and giving the demon time.

As he stewed McCree distracted himself with shuffling away the papers he already finished. There was a sizeable stack, which was nice, but it didn’t compare to the tower of manila folders and paper clipped packets. Not to mention whatever was waiting for him on his tablet, though those were easier to ignore. He almost forgot he asked a question before Hanzo answered.

“I… did something unforgivable to him,” came the raspy response. His voice sounded as tightly wound as the demon himself. McCree furrowed his eyebrows.

“What did you do?”

Hanzo glanced over at him then, and McCree saw the raw pain on his face, the way his lips twisted over his fangs and the utter sorrow and guilt in his blank white eyes. It was everything Hanzo tried to keep hidden under his surface. It was what he kept batting away with witty remarks and changing the subject while simultaneously beating himself over the head with it. It was what bubbled up every time Hanzo saw his little brother, alive and happy yet not quite whole, never to be whole ever again and it was his fault.

“Hanzo.”

All of a sudden there was a warm hand on the demon’s arm. Hanzo looked down. Oh. He had ripped through his pants where his claws were digging into his knees. He quickly let go and the fabric drifted back together in lazy white wisps until it was repaired. He watched, steadying his breath that he hadn’t realized was getting short. God, he didn’t even need to breathe and he was on the verge of breaking down.

“I…” His voice strangled itself. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I attempted to murder my brother.”

\--

The next day the base was fairly quiet, nothing more than the usual din of people busy scurrying about and making things run smoothly. The hangar saw some activity, though, with the return of a few agents. Most of them came back aching and tired but with a success under their belts, and one in particular was eager to report back in so he could get a gold star back on his record and the higher ups off his cyborg ninja ass.

Genji Shimada came out of his report happy that his partner was back and they could blow off some steam together. He was also gearing to rag on him for messing up so royally that Captain Amari heaved a long-suffering sigh and left the room just from asking how his mission went. He didn’t mind doing missions by himself, not by a long shot, but he did kind of miss having someone to joke with and pick on, and if McCree was screwing up then it would keep them in ‘time out’ even longer.

He strode through the barracks quickly, going straight to the cowboy’s quarters. Genji rapped his knuckles on the door, one hand on his hip and ready to teasingly chide his partner. There was a moment of silence, then some muffled yet hissed words, and finally the metal door slid open with a smooth whoosh. Jesse looked tired, hair a bit of a mess and circles under his eyes. His friendly smile wasn’t quite as wide as Genji remembered.

“You look like shit,” Genji said instead of the cheeky greeting he thought was going to come out of his mouth. Still, McCree gave a snort as he stepped aside to let the ninja  in.

“Hello to you too, asshole.”

“The mission was that bad, huh?” Genji asked sympathetically, walking in to plop himself on McCree’s bed. “I heard from the Captain you got in yesterday. What did they have you doing?”

McCree shrugged. He settled into the chair at his desk and dragged a hand down his face. Genji noticed his cowboy hat was tossed on the floor, and his desk was covered in a mess of papers. He was pretty sure there was a small puddle of drool on one of them, too.

“Eh, just goin’ after some Junkers in Australia. Jetlag was a bitch.”

Genji knew that dismissive tone. Whatever it was, Jesse didn’t want to talk about it. He would probably hear about it later, at least part of the story, but likely not before several drinks.

“Sounds about as boring as my mission.” Genji took off his mask- this one another oni, though with bright green horns to match the accents on his black outfit and the long scarf wrapped several times around his neck. He fanned his face with the mask to help him air out; cooling systems be damned, it was nice to have unfiltered air once in awhile. “They sent me on a bunch of errands! I hardly had a single bounty to turn in.”

McCree didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead he was studying Genji’s face. The pock marks and scars criss crossing his skin looked like he’d been put through a lightning storm or a blender. Or both. Genji knew it was a big reason Jesse never pressed him for more information than he was willing to give- the other bounty hunter had said that kind of thing must have been hell, the kind he didn’t want to make someone relive. Even when he said he was at peace with it all Jesse didn’t touch the subject.

Genji cocked his eyebrow. “What is it? Is there something on my face?”

McCree seemed to snap out of it and shook his head. “No, I uh. I got somethin’ to ask you.”

He sat up straighter. “I’m guessing it isn’t to go to the shooting range to blow off steam.”

“God, I wish.” McCree chuckled and scratched at his unkempt beard, glancing off to a corner of the room. “It’s about Hanzo. Or, well, you n’ Hanzo.”

“He told you.”

Genji was no idiot. He knew Jesse well enough, and he sure as shit knew his older brother.

McCree pulled a mildly uncomfortable face, nose and mouth scrunched up to one side, but nodded. He hooked his thumb over at an empty corner by the door. “He, uh, may have mentioned the whole ‘tried to kill you’ thing, yeah.”

With a sigh Genji put his mask down and situated himself into a better spot for the inevitable long and serious conversation. He glanced over at the spot Jesse had indicated. “Did he tell you the whole story?”

A sly, grim smirk graced McCree’s face. “‘Course not. Wouldn’t be Hanzo if he didn’t tell me only the things he did wrong. Seein’ as how you were always tellin’ me you’re okay n’ shit after your therapy journey, I wanted to hear from you what happened.”

Genji allowed himself a breath of small relief. He couldn’t imagine what Hanzo was saying now, or what happened between the two since Hanzo came clean. He could however, imagine the years of wrestling with his own anger and hatred he’d experienced after the failed fratricide. With his brother being dead it had felt like he would never be able to find peace, only the clan to take his revenge on but not the person who left him with his new body. He had a long time to come to terms with that night and everything since.

But McCree had Hanzo right there to yell at and lash out at, to hate as he pleased. Yet still he had the mind to ask for Genji’s side while chastising Hanzo for holding back. He knew sticking his brother with Jesse McCree was a good idea. For both of them.

“How much did he tell you?”

Jesse held up a hand and started ticking off the points. “Said you were gettin’ to be too much for yer family, bringin’ dishonor and didn’t think you were worthy and such. Told me how they ordered the loyal heir t’ off the disloyal one. Han talked about the fight, and fuckin’ up your back so your spirit couldn’t heal you- which, by the way, _dragons_? I know you said somethin’ ‘bout how spirits leave their mark, but I kinda assumed y’all also had snarky assholes livin’ in a tattoo on ya.”

Genji snickered. “I also told you that our tattoos were dragons.”

“Yeah, but so’s mine!” McCree pointed to his arm. “An’ I got a demon!”

“Anything else?”

McCree shook his head. “Said he couldn’t bring himself to actually kill ya, and the elders had him killed instead.”

The younger Shimada nodded, clasping his hands together and smiling softly. “Figures brother would skip the most important part.”

McCree raised his eyebrow, looked over at the corner for a moment then back. “What would that be?”

“The part where he saved me.” Genji turned to his brother, and though he couldn’t see Hanzo he wanted him to know he was talking to both of them. “It is part of why I forgave him, in the end. I remember bits and pieces of that night. I know Hanzo fully intended to kill me because he believed it would atone for everything I did. Of course it hurt when he brought his blade against me, both physically and emotionally. It still does when I think about it. But when he saw me clinging to life despite… the mess.” Genji gestured to himself. “He decided to lie to the elders, knowing he was betraying them by doing so, and insist on taking my body to dispose of it. He carried me in the middle of the night and put me in a spot I would easily be found. And to make sure I would survive that long, he gave me this.”

The younger Shimada closed his eyes and tugged at the energy flowing just under the surface of his skin. A glow filled the room, emanating from along his back and his left arm, one green and one blue. McCree had occasionally seen the green glow before, but he always assumed it was a cyborg thing. Much to his amazement though a form came forth from the light and crawled up his back onto his shoulder. The same happened to the blue glow, winding down his arm and coiling into his lap. Sitting on Genji were two long, scaled creatures with fur down their backs and horns growing above cat-like eyes. They were dragons, roughly the size of ferrets with bodies three times as long, with a knowing intelligence and ethereal grace behind animalistic features.

Hanzo gasped. McCree tore his eyes away to look over at the demon who looked as if his heart stopped. Hanzo floated down to the floor, dropping to his knees and visibly shaking.

“They… they survived,” he choked out. “I wasn’t sure… I had hoped but…”

The blue dragon gazed at him and placed a clawed hand on Genji’s arm. A voice rang in the air, light and rumbling like distant thunder, though the dragon did not open its mouth. “ _Yes, young one. I am still here, though Soba would not have stayed tied to this world had you not transferred our bond to this one._ ”

Tears wet Hanzo’s eyes, though they went ignored as he spoke to the dragon. “What became of your brother?”

“ _When you died my twin went to the spirit realm, as we were meant to. However, since I was now bonded to this one I remained in the material world. I can still feel him. We were never meant to be seperated.”_

Hanzo then bowed, his face twisted in guilt and the tears flowing freely down his gray cheeks. “ I am deeply sorry. I do not deserve to see you again. I brought shame to you, to the family... to everyone. I can never atone yet… yet even now I am being selfish by daring to be happy at your presence. This demonic form isn’t punishment enough for what I have done.”

The dragon snorted and rose like a snake, whip-like whiskers lashing in an invisible wind. “ _Young Shimada, you are an utter fool._ ”

Hanzo flinched and lowered himself even further.

“ _You have upset the balance, this is true. The Shimadas have been bonded with our clan for centuries. Your family is meant to serve our family in the spiritual realm as ours serves yours in the material realm. By performing that ritual sloppily you transferred half of your contract to your brother you have broken the rules of the agreement between our clans and separated me from my twin._ ”

The demon sputtered. “I-I didn’t intend to split you up! I wanted-”

“ _Silence!_ ” The dragon growled, growing in size until it was almost as big as a dog and towering over the cowering demon. The spirit huffed and settled a little, shrinking down again just enough that it fit comfortably on the younger Shimada’s lap. The green dragon mewled, wrapping itself comfortingly around Genji like a scarf.

“ _Regardless of your intent, that is what happened. Now we are in two different worlds and our bond is weak. We are being pulled together but due to our host, you, being a spirit yourself, we are unable to come together in the material world._ ” The dragon narrowed it’s eyes, mouth parting to show it’s sharp teeth. “ _Furthermore, due to your actions you were not sent to serve our family in the after life. The contracts are a mess. Nothing has been fulfilled. Thousands of years of tradition has been broken so that you could save the brother that you raised your sword against. Something must be done to rectify this._ ”

Jesse held up a hand. The dragon was speaking Japanese, which he wasn’t terribly fluent in, but he knew enough that he didn’t like where the conversation seemed to be going. “Hold on now. I got a question.”

“ _It is rude to interrupt, human._ ” That one was in English, and having the booming voice directed at him made McCree pushing himself back into his chair.

Genji looked up from scratching the chin of the green dragon and flicked the blue on on the nose, causing it to shake its head in offense. “Jesse is just as much a part of this as the rest of us, Udon. Let him speak.”

McCree rubbed at his temples. God this whole situation was going to drive him insane. “First off, I get that Hanzo messed up big time. We all do. It’s been eatin’ at him for as long as I’ve known him and probably way longer ‘n that. What I wanna know is, is he being punished?”

“ _He needs to know the full ramifications of what he’s done._ ”

“Okay…” McCree pointed at Hanzo, still hunched in a deep bow on the floor. He wasn’t hiding his features anymore, horns keeping his forehead from touching the ground and long fangs bared in a pained grimace. “I think he damn well knows by now. So why are you giving Han a hard time? He tried to make up for it by doin’ everything he could to save his brother. Genji forgives him. Don’t that count for anything?”

“ _You do not know the matters of which you speak_ ,” Udon rumbled authoritatively.

McCree started getting worked up. “He died so Genji could live! I mean, come on! He betrayed that asshole family and gave up something that coulda helped him not get killed all so his little brother would make it!”

“Jesse, stay out of this,” Hanzo mumbled.

“No, I ain’t stayin’ outta nothin!

“McCree-” Genji tried to interject.

“No!” McCree rose from his chair as he spoke louder. “Hanzo is a good fuckin’ person. Alright? He saved Genji’s life, Genji’s dragon, _and_ my ass more than once! Hell, he died an’ he’s still helpin’ me while punishing himself. None of us would be here talkin’ about this if it weren’t for him!”

Slowly and shakily Hanzo sat up, cocking his head and a range of emotions swimming across his features. “Please do not try to defend me. I have brought great shame-”

“Zip it, Hanzo.” Jesse spun on the demon. “I only known ya for a few months but even I can tell you ain’t beyond redemption. You ain’t broken, and you ain’t someone who don’t deserve saving. No matter how much you try t’ tell yourself otherwise.”

Hanzo pursed his lips, unsure what to say. He felt like he had been lying to Jesse the whole time, somehow convincing him he wasn’t a monster. There was something comforting about how much Jesse believed otherwise, though.

“ _Those are our sentiments exactly, human_ ,” Udon boomed. It exhaled air past it’s lips and stretched it’s clawed feet, an arch rippling down it’s body before it glided smoothly into the air. It drifted in circles in the space around Hanzo. “ _Somen and I wish to be reunited in this world and properly carry out our bonded contract with you._ ”

The demon jerked back, eyes wide. “I don’t understand. Why? How?”

A pur rolled out of Udon. “ _For all of the reasons your contract holder has stated. We believe you have atoned here, and by reinstating our contract to correctly finish it, that will right the wrongs with the spiritual world._ ”

He shook his head. “That’s impossible. I am dead. Spirits cannot be bound with other spirits.”

“ _What sort of dragons do you take us for, young one?_ ” Udon huffed. He settled on Hanzo’s shoulders, his body loosely wrapped around them. “ _We can grant you your body back. There are some consequences, and our power will be depleted for the rest of our time with you, but it is within our ability_.”

There was that pesky breathing problem again. Hanzo brought a hand up to stroke the side of Udon’s neck to calm himself down, a familiar and habitual gesture. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed it until he felt his dragon let out a pleased rumble. He felt his thoughts slowly unwind from the tangled, static mess they had become, though his limbs felt lighter than air despite him not floating.

Genji smiled. “You’re getting a second chance, brother. It’s not every day the spirits bless someone like that.”

Awestruck, the demon brushed his other hand over his arm, feeling the ridges of the tattoo there. Something else was bugging him,something he had noticed back in Australia, and he sensed he knew the answer but he had to ask anyway. “What about my contract with McCree?”

Udon’s nose twitched and it glanced at the cowboy. “ _You have fulfilled it. The wound that was threatening his life is no longer. His body has healed and will survive without your aid, as I’m sure you can feel._ ”

Jesse gripped at his shirt over the spot where the scar from the shrapnel sat. _I thought you said you’d be stuck with me for life_ he thought to himself.

It seemed Hanzo was either reading his mind or could easily guess because he winced. “I am sorry for what I said before. I did not know at the time. I have never experienced a contract from this side; as I said, you are my first, so I could only guess at how long it would last.”

Jesse slumped back into his seat. Hanzo looked at him, searching his face. He was sorry for this too, McCree knew. His grip tightened on his shirt. He knew what he had to do, even as he wanted to hold on and refuse to let go. He took a heavy breath and smiled over at his demon. “You should take the deal, Han. Like the little guy said, I’m fine. You’ll have your body back! I’ll get to see what you look like as a human.”

The green dragon- Soba was it? Finally spoke up. It’s voice was higher pitched but much nicer than the other’s, echoing like chimes in the wind. “ _It wouldn’t be wise for you to see him at first._ ”

“How come?” Jesse’s heart lept into his throat.

“ _When Hanzo’s spirit is returned to his body he is not likely to remember most of his time as a spirit, if anything at all. Though his physical wounds will be healed he will mentally be brought back to the moment of his death,_ ” Udon informed them.

Hanzo shuddered. That was… definitely going to be a big leap. Ten years of picking up the pieces and he’d be brought right back to the moment that broke him.

“Do not worry, brother,” Genji assured. “I will be there to help you through it. After all, I know a thing or two about coming back from the dead.”

“Please do not be so flippant, brother,” Hanzo groaned, forgetting he could not be heard by the cyborg.

McCree cleared his throat, pulling himself from thinking to hard about the tightness in his chest. “Hey, I just thought of somethin’. How come I can see an’ hear these guys but you can’t see Hanzo?” he asked Genji.

“ _Hanzo’s been a demon for only ten years_ ,” chirped Soba. “ _He’s a weakling compared to us._ ”

Udon nodded sagely and proudly. “ _We possess much more spiritual energy than he does. Our power allows us to manifest more strongly. Even after my twin and I rejoin Hanzo’s soul to his body we will be able to take this diminutive form._ ”

“Oh.”

“I haven’t even decided if I will say yes yet,” Hanzo mumbled. He was sitting lax, as if his bones were made of jelly, and he felt much the same. His mind was reeling.

McCree leaned on his desk, bringing his cheek to rest in his hand. “Why not?”

“It’s…” Hanzo paused, sorting out his words. “I am still unsure if I deserve this opportunity. It seems too good to be true.”

McCree hummed. “Well, if you’re gonna be losin’ your memories of all this, then ain’t it kinda like a clean slate? You get t’ start over to before you died, an’ this time you get t’ live yer life however you want.”

Genji nodded. “He is right, brother. In your absence much has changed. After I was given this body by Blackwatch they helped me dismantle the clan. It would take decades for the few that remain to restore the Shimada clan to even a fraction of its former control. They will not be able to lord over you again.”

“See? An’ you’ll have your brother right there by your side, alive. So whaddaya say?”

Hanzo looked to the floor. There was tension in the air, tighter than a bowstring. The sigh that left the demon’s lips loosed the arrow. “Alright, I accept.”

The moment Hanzo agreed Udon flew in excited circles around the room and started rapidly informing them to get the ball rolling. With Hanzo’s contract already being fulfilled he would be ejected into the spiritual realm soon. Somen would find him on the other side and lead him to the proper location, which Genji was told would be the resting place of his brother’s body. That meant he had to make flight plans quickly if he wanted to be able to exhume it and be there to welcome Hanzo back to the land of the living. It also meant goodbyes were now or never.

Hanzo stood there awkwardly for a beat, unsure what to even say. There were hundreds of things he wanted to say, but nothing came out. Jesse didn’t seem to struggle as much as he quickly pulled Hanzo into a hug, though he did it partially to hide how he was trying his damnedest not to cry. Much to his surprise Hanzo slowly returned the gesture before burying his face into his neck. Jesse shivered from the cold contact of his skin and pulled the demon tighter against him, not ready to let go just yet.

Hanzo was the first to pull back and saw that neither of them had managed to keep their composure. He chuckled dryly. “I’ll be happy to make your acquaintance again on the other side,” Hanzo whispered to him.

Jesse let out a wet laugh, rubbing furiously at his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Same to you, Nightlight.”

Hanzo smiled, genuine and full of affection at the stupid nickname and every other pet name Jesse had called him. He leaned forward and placed a soft, gentle kiss to the side of Jesse’s bristly cheek, and then melted into gray and black smoke that dissipated into empty air.


	18. Charming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really long chapter. Love y'all!

Over the next few days Genji kept frequent contact with his friend to both update him periodically and make fun of him for the sappy display of affection. Once his brother was back, though, there was radio silence. After a week of nothing he eventually managed to get some time to shoot a message to Jesse and fill him in. He had his hands full just explaining things to Hanzo and trying to get him re-acclimated to the world. Ten years was a long time to be dead after all.

They were going to stay in Hanamura for awhile, keep him in familiar surroundings while he dealt with the weight of his new knowledge and reemerged feelings. He had plenty of panic attacks, and Genji had to reintroduce himself almost every time Hanzo woke up. He had refused to believe he was really his younger brother for a solid three days. The noodles, as Genji referred to the powerful spirit dragons that protected them, were helpful in calming him down and authenticating everything. Coming to terms with his new situation was slow-going.

The next major milestone came when Genji told Jesse they were going to Nepal. Apparently he wanted Hanzo to meet his monk friend, the same one who helped Genji cope after his whole ordeal. He thought the omnic might be able to help Hanzo, too. Jesse tried to be supportive despite his impatience.

Then there was a whole lot of waiting. The time between messages became further and further apart. McCree tried not to be anxious and pester Genji for responses; he knew he had a lot on his plate at the moment with his no-longer-dead brother and bugging him wasn’t going to make things go faster. Instead he took on missions, easy ones that he could breeze through in just a couple days or less. He zoned out during meetings and wasn’t called in to the officers to be chastised for breaking rules at all. It was like he was on auto-pilot, only coming out of it between trips to glue himself to a screen and thumb through messages, refreshing his inbox over and over again.

Reyes noticed his strange behavior and got McCree to break down and spill the beans. Jesse hadn’t even realized how much he was keeping in until it all came pouring out. Reyes, of course, didn’t believe it at first, but after a little more talking he seemed to accept it a little easier than McCree expected. He was slightly offended to find out his boss knew about the spirit dragons and the demons but the commander waved it away. He had worked very closely with Genji in order to take down the family empire, so he had needed to know everything. It was a very closely guarded secret, both by the Shimadas and now Blackwatch, too. The only thing that surprised Reyes was that Genji had hooked McCree up with his brother.

It was excruciatingly long before the best and worst text came from Genji:

_ We’re coming home _ .

Jesse whooped with excitement and then cursed and banged his head against a wall almost immediately after when he remembered Hanzo didn’t know who the hell he was. According to Genji he had nothing more than a few nightmares from his time as a spirit that wrenched him awake at night. He more than likely wouldn’t be able to recognize anyone or anything.

Genji was careful to warn his friend to take it slow. Hanzo had agreed to join Genji in Blackwatch, Reyes approval for a trial run and all, but he was highly cautious. From Hanzo’s perspective he hadn’t even met someone  _ like _ McCree, let alone become close with the cowboy. The only thing he knew was that his brother had a partner in the bounty hunting organization and his name was Jesse McCree.

The day the Shimadas touched down at the base had everyone else agitated purely from McCree’s anxiety. The jingle of his spurs echoed endlessly throughout the halls and his nervous muttering was always close behind. One of the other agents had gotten sick of his incessant foot tapping in the kitchen and banished him to the bunker where his pacing was restricted to his room. Even if he hadn’t been stuck there, he didn’t think he’d be able to bring himself to venture outside and possibly run into the brothers while Hanzo was being given a tour.

He wasn’t ready to face him again. He didn’t know why- he should be excited, and he  _ was _ , but he was also unsure if he’d be able to just pretend like he had never met Hanzo before. The past few months wasn’t something he could easily forget and Jesse knew he’d screw it up within the first five minutes of their ‘introduction.’

Plus, he had never seen what Hanzo looked like without all the gray skin and glowing white eyes and fangs. Logically he wouldn’t look  _ that _ different but it was hard to imagine Hanzo without those things. Would he still snarl when he was displeased? Were his nails really that long? What color were his eyes even?

A buzz from his phone made him jump. He scrambled over to his desk and glanced at the screen. Oh god, it was Genji. They were headed to his room to say hi. McCree’s stomach did a back double-somersault dive with three half twists on the way down.

He was tempted to pull out all of his hair. His felt like his room was a disaster despite having spent several hours killing time by making sure all his messes were either cleaned or very well hidden. He smoothed out his sleeves and considered rolling them down for the hundredth time. Though his tattoo had disappeared when his demon did, he still had scarring that he was seriously thinking of covering up with a replication of it. It was a bitch to work his sleeve over the elbow of his prosthetic, though, and he’d been told before that he looked better with them rolled up anyway (who told him that again? Was it Hanzo? He hoped it was Hanzo).

Jesse found that he had accidentally gone back to pacing again. At this point he was going to wear a hole into his floor. He stopped and wiped his clammy hands on his jeans and took a few deep breaths. There was nothing to worry about. He was just meeting someone for the first time. Again. That he really cared about. And he had to make a good first impression on or they might avoid him forever. Deep breath in. And out. In, and-

A knock came from his door and he pressed his lips tight together to keep his exhale from becoming a full-blown scream. 

“McCree? Torb said you were sent to your room,” came Genji’s voice. “Why are you in time-out this time?”

Sometimes McCree wished he had the power to turn people to a pile of ash from just a thought. It would come in real handy whenever his little shit of a partner wanted to embarrass him. He stalked over to the door and jammed his thumb on the open button. He was greeted to the cocky pose of the younger Shimada. He could practically see the cheeky grin behind his mask.

“Why are you so mean, Genji?”

“Runs in the family. May we come in?”

Ah. Right. Somehow McCree had temporarily forgotten. His nerves were on fire again and he stepped into the hall, crowding Genji out of the doorway. “Er, it’s kind of a mess right now.”

Genji looked past him and snorted. “Liar. I have never seen this dump hole more spotless.”

McCree pointedly pressed a button on the keypad outside, closing the door behind him with a whoosh.

“Just for that comment, y’ain’t allowed back in ever again, not even to get back yer shitty anime. Dump hole my ass.”

“Ha.”

There was a sharp pain in Jesse’s neck as he whipped his head around at the familiar noise. It didn’t compare to the stab that jolted his heart at the sight attached to it.

Standing before him with hair shaved and piercings everywhere was a very human Hanzo Shimada. He wore a big collared jacket with loose pants and a blue backpack decorated in several buttons. Of course even looking like he just walked off the street a quiver of arrows blatantly stuck out of the pack and a bow was slung across his opposite shoulder. So this is what he truly looked like. He was so full of color, a stark contrast to the Hanzo Jesse knew, yet he stood right there in front of him with his usual bemused smirk.

Jesse found himself unable to form the proper words for a moment, too busy just absorbing him. He was there, in the flesh, an honest-to-god person instead of an intangible spirit. He knew that he had to say  _ something _ before things got weird, though.

“...Your eyes are brown.”

Hanzo drew back, cocking his head in confusion. “What?”

“Uh.” McCree held up his hands and quickly backtracked, realizing his stupid mistake and trying to cover with his well-practiced southern charm smile. “Nothin’, ferget about it. I’m Jesse McCree. Pleasure to meet ya." He tipped his hat.

Genji discreetly elbowed the idiot in the back. “Really? Right out of the gate?” he hissed quietly.

“...Sure.” Hanzo stared at the cowboy suspiciously but gave a small bow. “Shimada Hanzo. Genji’s told me much about you.”

“Good things I hope.” McCree managed an awkward laugh, hoping desperately to save face. “He’s told me lots about you, too.”

The elbow to the back was harder this time and he actually gave a small ‘oof.’ Hanzo meanwhile paled as he looked away and shoved his hands in his pockets. Shit, he fucked up.

“Also good things! Promise!” Nope that was worse.

“WELL,” Genji loudly announced, stepping on McCree’s toes while slinging his arm around his shoulders. “This has been awkward and fun, but I think it’s time I show brother to his new room.” He gave McCree a warning squeeze. “I’m sure Jesse has to go back to time-out, as well. Don’t you cowpoke?”

McCree extracted himself from the protective younger brother’s grip. “Mhm, sure do. Lotsa stuff to catch up on. By the way, Genji? _Que te la pique un pollo._ ”

Genji paused a moment to translate the phrase to himself while McCree opened his door. “That’s not very nice.”

“It’s not meant t’ be.” Jesse smirked and stepped inside. He poked his head out to look back at Hanzo, who was baffled. He squeezed the door frame, hoping to save at least a little face. “Been nice meetin’ ya darlin’. I promise I ain’t usually this stupid. Don’t let yer brother convince you otherwise.”

Before he could see Hanzo’s reaction he gave a two-fingered salute goodbye and shut his door. Right away he tossed his hat across the room and hid his face in both hands as he pressed against the wall and slid down to the floor. God, he really didn’t last five minutes with the charade. He couldn’t help himself. It was a shock, to be sure. He let his guard down and just said whatever came to mind. Now he probably ruined whatever image this new Hanzo had of him.

He heard muffled voices and, against his better judgement, McCree turned his ear to the wall.

“-really a cowboy?”

“Maybe. He said he was born on a ranch, though I don’t think he even knows what a horse is.”

“I can believe that.”

 McCree cursed Genji silently. He was trying to make a good impression and he could ruin that all on his own, thank you very much!

“...What do you think of him?”

A short pause. “He is… an interesting character, I think. Definitely an idiot, though. I can see why you two were partnered together.”

“Brother!”

Their voices faded as they walked away. McCree heaved a sigh. This wasn’t a new Hanzo, not entirely. He had the same sharp quips and harsh humor. It might not be as difficult to make friends with him again as McCree thought it would be. Hanzo wasn’t stuck following him around anymore, but now that he had him back Jesse wasn’t going to be discouraged so easily.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had apparently died and came back to life, Hanzo would chalk up his time so far at Blackwatch as one of the weirdest experiences he’s ever had.

His younger brother was almost just as he’d remembered him from their childhood days; carefree and outspoken. He had picked up on slight differences, though, like the calm demeanor, the way Genji didn’t seem as unburdened as he had before, and how he gave respect as much as he got it. Besides the cyborg thing, that was another jarring aspect he’d found upon coming to the Blackwatch base- his reckless little brother who had been lacking in responsibility from day one was deferred to by several agents seeking his aid or even passing by in the hall. What’s more, it seemed he had  _ earned _ that position rather than had it handed to him.

The rest of Blackwatch was relatively welcoming. The commanding officer that had allowed him to join for the sake of his brother seemed to be the type who was gruff on the outside but had a soft side just underneath. Then another rough layer underneath that. Really it was amazing anyone managed to stay in the middle for any length of time, though it seemed his brother had a good record. So did his cowboy partner.

Jesse McCree. Now  _ that _ was certainly a person that shook Hanzo from being able to fully settle in. He was just so… strange. It was like he was dancing around Hanzo every time they spoke. He tried avoiding speaking to the weirdo when he could, though his silence was easily filled in by the cowboy’s rambles. He also seemed to know things about Hanzo that he was sure he hadn’t told him.

Three days after his arrival, for example, they’d both been dragged to a karaoke bar by Genji (who was oddly enthusiastic about wanting his brother and partner to get along). McCree had ordered shots from the bar without even asking what they wanted. Sure enough, he had a whiskey for himself, tequila for Genji, and sake for Hanzo. He’d sauntered up and placed down the tray of glasses with a hopeful gleam.

“I don’t know if you consider shots ‘unsophisticated’ but it’s fine if it’s sake, right?”

Hanzo had given him a weird look but accepted the drink and downed it easily, earning a relieved smile from McCree.

Then there was the time Hanzo found himself alone in the common area with him, watching some old spaghetti western on the holoscreen. He would’ve left but he didn’t have anything better to do. Hanzo had lost track what McCree had been talking about somewhere around the time a mechanical bull, a bottle full of piss, and an angry gambler came up.

“I ain’t never been trapped in a train full of glow-in-the-dark emus until that night. Lemme tell you, that was mighty terrifyin’. You ever seen any before, Nightlight?”

A cock of the head and brows drawn perfectly together. “What?”

“You ever seen an emu that glows in the dark?”

Hanzo shook his head slowly, but kept careful watch of McCree after that. He seemed to brush right by it like it was the most normal thing in the world to call someone by a name that didn’t make sense but he didn’t bring up again either.

Little things like this kept happening and it had been causing something of a friction between them. Hanzo tried to brush off all the strange things the cowboy said or did, and it quickly became very obvious McCree had been trying to smooth over these slip ups. The longer he talked, the more likely it would be that regular conversation became an awkward mess.

That’s why when Hanzo was assigned a mission with McCree he was ready to beg the commander to do literally anything else. Five whole days alone with him? A week if things went wrong, which he’d gathered enough in his time at Blackwatch that he knew that was a very likely outcome. There was no way the elder Shimada could make it that long.

“Too bad Genji couldn’t come, eh?” McCree asked. He gave Hanzo an amicable yet apologetic smile.

His dissatisfaction must not have been as internalized as he thought. He shrugged in response.

“Yeah.” McCree clumsily shoved his thumbs in his pants pockets as they walked the slate gray hallway towards the barracks. He was both looking forward to and dreading having a mission with just him and Hanzo. Genji had more confidence in him than he did, having forfeited his place for the cowboy. He said it was a good opportunity for bonding while at the same time warning him repeatedly not to talk about stuff that Hanzo didn’t remember happening. He likened it to taking off the training wheels, except those training wheels would slice him seventy ways to Sunday his he upset his big brother in any way, shape, or form.

They reached Hanzo’s room first and, predictably, he was already packed and armed. McCree barely got a glimpse inside as Hanzo ducked in to quicky retrieve his bag. It looked like a fresh room with nary a hair out of place. Nothing decorated it and everything else was regular standard-issue. It made McCree a little sad, but he reminded himself that Hanzo was still in a new environment and fresh from the dead. He probably didn’t have many possessions yet.

The two stopped at McCree’s room next. He opened the door without thinking but upon seeing the disarray, he couldn’t help but compare it to how neat and tidy Hanzo’s room was and flush a little in embarrassment. He glanced at Hanzo over his shoulder who was impatiently standing behind him.

“Er, ‘scuse the mess. You’re welcome to come in n’ sit down, though. I still gotta get my stuff together.”

Hanzo said nothing but followed him as he entered. With all the awareness of a teenager caught with something they shouldn’t have he watched Hanzo look around the room at the various pictures, knicknacks, posters, and decor full of cacti and tumbleweeds. He paused at the row of cowboy boots for a full ten seconds before shaking his head and moving to sit on the bed.

McCree quickly went about opening drawers and throwing things into his black duffel bag. Hanzo seemed content to just look around and watch, which was all well and good until McCree had trouble finding one of his shirts only to realize he’d tossed it on one of the horns of his cow skull (a gift from Gabe’s boyfriend with tacky tastes). He didn’t want to draw attention to this fact and seem even more of a slob than Hanzo probably already perceived him, so he gave up on it and carried on.

Hanzo’s wandering gaze landed at his bedside table and he squinted. “Is that you and Genji?”

McCree glanced over at the strip of photos. “Ah, yeah. Night of drunk fun after one of our first missions together.”

Hanzo nodded, still staring at the picture. “At an arcade, correct?”

The pants he’d been folding paused in his tossing of them. “Yes. How’d you know that?” he asked slowly.

Hanzo blinked and looked back at him. “Genji loves arcades. He always spent his free time there when we were kids.”

Jesse nodded and smiled, trying to crush the little bud of hope that had attempted to sprout up. “Just gonna grab some stuff from the bathroom an’ I’ll be all set,” McCree assured him as he walked away.

“What about your weapons?” Hanzo asked, more out of professionalism than a desire for conversation.

“Already in the bag,” McCree called out. “I always keep ‘em in the bottom, right on top of my collection.”

That deserved an eyebrow raise of curiosity. “Collection?”

“Yeah. I like to keep ‘em separated with a bag, though. Don’t need gun oil ruining ‘em even in the bottom pocket.”

There was no elaboration beyond that, which Hanzo was ready to just mark off as an annoyance and be done with it. But he really was curious what the heck kind of collection was precious enough to warrant it’s own bag in a bag yet presumably useful enough to take with him on missions.

He looked to the bathroom door. McCree was out of sight and from the sounds of it digging through a cabinet for something. The duffel was sitting not two feet from Hanzo.

He ignored the part of his brain saying this was probably a bad idea, something he was very talented at doing, and carefully pulled the bag closer. With a steady hand he unzipped the bottom pocket as quietly as he could and slowly tilted the top-heavy duffel open. Indeed there was a black bag in there, similar to a storage bag for fancy clothes. Perhaps it was for undercover work. Was it some sort of silk tie collection or something?

He turned his head to the bathroom and, still hearing McCree’s shuffling about, swiftly and silently opened the bag. Inside were a ridiculous collection of strangely printed fabrics, neatly folded and organized. He pulled one out and unfolded it. Boxers? Who the hell collected boxers? Though, looking at the stylized red cacti against the white background, he could see where they might have a uniqueness that would make someone want to have them. Certainly he could picture the cowboy talking about how neat they were.

“Alright, I’m all- oh.” McCree stopped in his tracks, halfway through zipping up his toiletries bag.

Hanzo felt like he should hastily close the bag and pretend like he didn’t see them, but he didn’t see much of a point in it. Besides, he couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu that was racking his brain.

He carefully refolded the underwear and placed it back in the back. “Apologies, I couldn’t help but wonder.”

McCree was silent. He seemed unable to settle on what to say, his thoughts racing at a mile a minute. “...’S alright, I guess,” he slowly drawled. “Please don’t- don’t go through my stuff again.”

Hanzo nodded. He didn’t look away from the open bag of collector underwear, though. Something else was nagging him, stopping him from dropping it and going back to being a distant coworker. Like a magnet drawn to an opposite pole he felt his arm reach in again before he could even think about it. He pulled out another pair unbidden. They were blue, dark but not too dark, spattered with tiny stars in the free spaces between yellow, green, blue, and purple cartoon dragons. Some of them were breathing fire, some of them sleeping, others just looking coyly out at him. It felt… off in a way he couldn’t quite place. Not just that it didn’t fit in with the American Southwest theme of the rest of the collection. There was something else.

Off in his peripheral, McCree tensed. His fingers flexed and after a shocked pause, he shuffled closer. “Hey, can you-”

“Whose are these?” The words came out as naturally as his hand had found the fabric.

McCree froze, his fingers uncurling and curling again, before he reached down to snatch the pair of boxers away from the new bounty hunter. Hanzo jerked them out of his reach though and McCree glared bug-eyed at him. “They’re mine. All of ‘em are.”

Hanzo looked up at him, one brow raised. He could see the twinge of fear just behind those eyes, could sense the lie as easily as if he’d said the sky was plaid.

“I don’t think they are, Mister McCree. These ones are new.” He gave the pair in his hands a small shake. He watched the cowboy attempt to carefully school his features into a neutral mask.

“So what if they are? I don’t rightly like you goin’ through my stuff,  _ Mister Shimada _ .”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed. There was that niggling feeling again, right underneath his annoyance and contempt for Jesse McCree. He looked back at the underwear. “No, that’s not right. It does not fit in with the collection here. This one seems like a gift. You give these out as gifts, don’t you?”

“...Who told you that?”

Hanzo shrugged noncommittally. He was honestly a little surprised he knew that himself, but saying it aloud only cemented that he knew it to be true. “Perhaps Genji did in passing.”

McCree shook his head and slowly, slowly sunk down to his knees beside the bed so he was looking up at Hanzo, taking off his hat and placing it beside him. It did nothing to change how intimidating the older Shimada was but suddenly the position made Hanzo feel like McCree had become so much more vulnerable. McCree took a breath and his words came out like he was pushing them through a meat grinder.

“I don’t… I never gave him any. I only gave any to my commanding officers, and they’re the only three people who know.” He let out a weary exhale as he ran his hand through his hair. “I was so embarrassed by their reactions that I didn’t wanna know how Genji would react, so I kept it under wraps. Didn’t tell nobody.”

Feeling a headache coming on, Hanzo closed his eyes and furrowed his brow.

_ Don’t suppose you’d be against me gettin’ you a pair? _

“You’re lying again. Why do you keep doing that?” Hanzo rubbed at the pinch of his forehead.

“How would you know if I’m lyin’?” McCree demanded.

“You’re too obvious about it,” Hanzo griped. The pain in his head was making him a little more irritable than he normally was. God, he was going to have to stop by the medbay before they departed if his brain was going to keep pounding in his skull like this. “You didn’t keep it to them. You gave… You told someone else. You told me, at some point. I don’t-”

_ Y’ain’t gotta wear ‘em. It’s the thought of the gift that counts. _

“You were supposed to give one to me,” he whispers.

There’s a hand on his knee, barely there but warm and present. He looks down to see McCree’s eyes searching his face with sadness, fear, and above all: hope. It startled Hanzo to find hope there. What could he possibly want? What was he looking for? They only just met not that long ago. He barely knows him. And yet-

_ And yet- _

Hanzo took the boxers and tossed them at McCree’s chest, forcing him to stop touching him in order to catch it.

“I’m terribly sorry. I am… out of sorts.” Abruptly he stood up, nearly tripping over the duffel that was still at his feet in his haste. He toed it aside and tightened the strap on his bag, looking at the door and decidedly not at McCree and his eyes full of too many emotions. Emotions he didn’t know how to deal with, even when his own weren’t threatening to spill over him like a wave, his quickly worsening headache the groaning of the dam holding them back. “I think it would be best if I see Dr. Ziegler.”

McCree’s hand shot out as Hanzo moved away and caught his wrist. It didn’t stay there long, just long enough to slow him down, and before Hanzo could react the grip shifted and McCree’s hand became gentle as it trailed down, down his wrist, across his palm, along his fingers, before settling, finally, with the tips of his fingers hooked around Hanzo’s own. That gesture in itself shocked Hanzo into halting completely. He instinctively curled his fingers back into McCree’s and it was like an anchor, tethering him in place and cutting through his frantic mind with a beacon of small, calm reassurance. Despite this the water lapped over the dam, just a little. His head hurt. His heart hurt.

He didn’t know why he was crying, but he wished he did.

“Han…?” Jesse’s voice was barely above a whisper. Always too afraid to break the tension whenever Hanzo was on edge.

When Hanzo didn’t respond Jesse gently tugged on their linked fingers and Hanzo took a slow step back. Still, he did not face the cowboy. He didn’t think he could.

“What…” Hanzo licked his lips, suddenly finding his mouth dry. “What is this? Why do I feel like I know things I should not about you?”

McCree heaved a shaky sigh. “It’s a little difficult to say, darlin’. I thought… I thought maybe you’d remembered.”

“I do not understand,” Hanzo muttered. He turned slightly, grazing over Jesse. His eyes were unmistakably full of hope, but there was a hesitancy in the way he hunched his shoulders, leaning forward but ready to step off at a moment’s notice. Hanzo slowly released his grip and pulled his hand away, but stood in place. “But it seems like you do. How?”

“Uh, well, y-you see…” He faltered, clearly not having things as figured out as he thought. “How do I put this… Y’know that time when you were a ghost? Or, I guess, spirit’s the right word.”

This time Hanzo fully spun around. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then dragged a weary hand down his face. “Genji told you about that, hm?”

Slowly McCree shook his head and let out a colorless laugh. “No.”

Jesse reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt. Hanzo was about to protest, unsure why that was suddenly necessary, but before he could he saw why as McCree pulled down his collar far enough to reveal a large, circular scar over the right side of his chest. It was deep and pitted like a crater maring the landscape of his skin.

The pieces started falling into place. Hanzo put a hand to his forehead, the ache getting worse. His knees felt weak and he promptly sat on the bed before he could collapse. He took a few breaths, centering himself.

“I see. You were... We were contracted.”

“Mmm, that’s the bare minimum of it, yeah.” McCree had a sheepish smile and seemed to be totally under-reacting to the way Hanzo’s stomach was in his throat. He scooted up onto the bed and reached out, brushing Hanzo’s hand with his own.

The elder Shimada flinched away from the touch. Jesse’s smile fell, but he obediently rested his hands in his lap. “Sorry, darlin’.”

Hanzo was beginning to wonder if he called everyone endearing nicknames or if it was just for friends. Though, considering the look on his face, Hanzo could at least guess what the cowboy thought of him. He shifted and cleared his throat, waiting until Jesse met his eyes to talk.

“Understand, McCree: I do not remember the same things you do. All I know of that time is… flashes. Everything is hazy and distant. I am surprised I even knew this much.” He gestured at the open duffel. He leveled his gaze at McCree. “Whatever happened between us I do not know, and it would probably be for the best if you do not tell me and let it go.”

McCree’s eyes searched his, already glistening with unshed tears. He looked down and nodded, pushing his hair out of his face and leaning away. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right. I know I wasn’t supposed to say nothin’, and I… I kept slippin’ up. I’m not a bad liar, either, so I think some part of me was doin’ it on purpose, just to see if you’d remember anything.”

He shook his head and glanced back up at Hanzo, whose piercing eyes bore through his soul. They really was a dramatic difference when he had color to them.

“I’m sorry. Fer everything. I really screwed up, huh?”

Hanzo hummed in response. He crossed his arms and looked around the room. The dam was still there, and he truly didn’t recognize anything beyond what he already knew, but he could sense there were puddles so to speak. Small bits and pieces of memory, too shallow to explore and nearly impossible to grasp, but there.

“You know, there is little precedence for this happening. A spirit returning to human form, that is. I do not think your prodding has hurt anything, though I would prefer it if you kept things to a minimum.”

Jesse nodded.

“At least try to let me know if it was something from before, too. Some of the things you’ve said and done have been a little bit creepy.”

He winced. “Creepy? Shit. ‘M real sorry ‘bout that, Hanzo.”

Hanzo pulled a face. “Like that. I do not know you quite well enough to be comfortable with that yet.”

The cowboy grimaced, curling in on himself a little at his mistake. “I promise I’ll hold back.”

The corner of the Shimada’s mouth quirked. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t help but be amused at his expressiveness. “Do not look like such a beaten puppy, McCree. Just take things slow. It is perhaps against my better judgement, but I might like to get reacquainted with you, provided you set aside your expectations. Whatever we were to each other before might not happen again.”

Immediately McCree perked up like a dog who was just told he was going for a walk. Hanzo could practically see his tail wag. “Really? You mean it?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you!”

“What are you thanking me for, idiot?” Hanzo scoffed. “I said I’d think about it.”

McCree smiled brightly at him, his cheerful demeanor slowly returning. “I really thought you’d hate me forever, so I’ll take what I can get, sweetheart.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes dangerously. “I am not a ‘sweetheart’.”

McCree only laughed and gestured at himself. “Nicknames come with the territory. That’s just somethin’ I don’t think I can help.”

Hanzo groaned and stood up, rolling his eyes. It was a habit he had the sneaking suspicion he would be forming when it came to Jesse. “I’ve made up my mind. I do hate you.”

“That’s fine.” McCree got up and straightened out his shirt before leaning down to grab his hat and plop it on his head. “Been told that by plenty of people I call friends, so it ain’t gonna stop me none. I can be charmin’ if I want to be.”

Unable to stop himself, Hanzo laughed. He felt at peace in the moment, something he’d been missing ever since he came back from the dead. “I would like to see you try, Jesse McCree.”


End file.
